


Beyond Amazing

by storytellerof221b



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Ball-gag, Bondage, Consent, Divorce, Dom/sub Play, Drinking alone, Drug Abuse, Emotions, Handcuffs, Kissing, M/M, Sexting, Sextoys, blindfold, doubts, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 07:56:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20042551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storytellerof221b/pseuds/storytellerof221b
Summary: Gregory Lestrade was left behind by his treacherous wife. He was actually the only thing, mostly, she had left behind. She took almost everything with her. He was having a drink too much when being informed that Sherlock Holmes has been taken into hospital. Again.He hurried to his side and met his strange brother for the first time. He wasn't impressed. Not at all.





	1. Chapter One

Gregory Lestrade sat in his now empty home. He had almost melted into the sofa and had a drink. His legs were stretched out and spread wide on the naked ground since the carpet was gone. He actually had had more than one drink that night. It was the first night alone after his wife had left him for good. He should be lucky he had been able to keep the sofa. She probably only had it not taken away because he kept sitting on it while the men hired from the moving company carried everything else away.  
He sighed and stared at the empty wall where only yesterday his huge flat-screen had been. He lifted his glass up and tilted it but it was empty. Again. Bloody hell. He cupped it up and just wanted to drink when his mobile rang.  
“Lestrade?” He answered it without looking at the caller ID.  
“It’s Donovan, boss. We found the freak. He …” Greg sat up straight.  
“What? Where is he? Is he OK?” He interrupted her.  
“No, Greg, he is not OK. He took something. No one knows what. He is in critical condition. Your number was in his wallet. It was actually the only thing that was.” Greg rubbed over his forehead.  
“God, the stupid, stupid man …” His eyes burnt.  
“How come he was on our crime scene?” Greg asked.  
“While we secured the crime scene, we checked through the whole place searching the rooms for evidence. And we found him upstairs on a rotten mattress. Half-dead.” Sally explained.  
“Jesus …” Greg muttered.  
“He is being brought into hospital now. The doctor said it would be Bart’s. I thought you wanted to know about this.” Sally sounded a bit hesitant but Greg didn’t mind. He was glad she had told him after all.  
“Yes, I do. Thanks, Sally. I appreciate it, your call. I am on my way.” He hung up and hurried into his bath. He quickly brushed his teeth and used some chewing-gum even though he knew it wouldn’t help.  
He looked into the mirror and saw his red-rimmed and tired copper's eyes. His hair was a mess and he hadn’t shaved.  
“What the fuck …” He muttered and grabbed his stuff. He left the flat running down the stairs. He knew he shouldn’t be driving but he couldn’t be bothered with the tube right now. And this was an emergency, wasn’t it?  
He parked somewhere right in front of the hospital and didn’t care about a ticket. At the reception he flashed his badge and was allowed to go upstairs. Sherlock was in intensive care and Greg was given scrubs, a mask and gloves. Slowly he walked up to his bed. Loads of tubes were leading in and out of his body. He was pale as death and a machine took good care, he kept breathing.  
Greg bit his lips and looked at the display to check his vitals. His blood pressure was low, almost too low. He also was so thin, so skinny. He had lost more weight after he had seen him last time.

Why was he doing this?

Greg stepped up closer to his side and touched his hand through the gloves. There was no reaction coming. Greg looked at all the needle marks on his arm, the bruises. His eyes wandered up and only now he realised that there must have been more.  
Sherlock’s nose was bandaged, his left eye was dark purple and there were still blood stains on his face and neck.  
“What happened to you, mate?” Greg whispered still holding his hand.  
Suddenly the door was opened and someone entered the room.  
“DI Lestrade.” Greg turned his head and saw Sherlock’s brother. He had never met him before and only knew it was him because Sherlock once had pointed him out on a crime scene and told him about Mycroft. Greg let go and fully turned to him. He only wondered for a second why he wasn’t wearing a mask and gloves.  
“Mr Holmes. I am glad you are here. I wasn’t sure if the staff would have done as being told by me.” The older Holmes didn’t look at him but looked at Sherlock.  
“You are on the list.” Greg was clueless.  
“What list?” He still didn’t look at him.  
“The family list. They would have done whatever you had decided was best for him.” Greg raised a brow.  
“Oh?” He swallowed. He had had no idea. But somehow it felt rather good.  
Mycroft now took the folder from Sherlock’s bed and scanned through the pages. He didn’t show any emotion or reaction. He put it back after a few minutes and Greg meanwhile had taken position by the bed again.  
“I assume you will be staying for a bit?” Mycroft asked and Greg just nodded.  
“Yes, I will. Would you like me to …” Greg was interrupted rather coldly.  
“I am being informed regularly. Im having hourly updates.” He straightened up and appeared even taller than before. He turned around and opened the door.  
“Good evening, DI Lestrade.” And gone he was. Greg stared at the closing door. Then he just shook his head and took Sherlock’s hand into his again. Perhaps it wasn’t such a mystery why Sherlock didn’t like his big brother after all, if he was always behaving like a brat. Greg sighed and kept watching his friend.


	2. Chapter Two

Sherlock woke after a few days which Greg had spent mostly by his bedside. He was weak like a kitten and didn’t speak at all. Although he looked thankful that he wasn’t alone, or so Greg thought.  
Greg knew Sherlock shouldn’t be alone, couldn’t be left alone. He had read his file, too, after his brother had left. And he was shocked. It had been attempted rape. First someone had beaten him up to weaken him and then had tried to get at his pants. Then he must have stopped because he didn’t finish. It said in the file that Sherlock had been naked except for a stained shirt and socks when he had been found.  
As far as Greg knew Sherlock had never had a girl-friend or a boy-friend. He also never told him about relationships or one-night-stands. Greg often wondered if he might still be a virgin. But on the other hand, the way he looked, he was so beautiful. Even in his drugged state he still was oddly attractive.

***

Mycroft Holmes didn’t return to the hospital. Greg wondered what kind of brother, man, he was. He reeked of official shit. He also was scary and intimidating. But these things had never once stopped Greg from acting as he thought was right. So, he ended up with just thinking that guy was rather interesting, fascinating even.  
Greg offered Sherlock to take him home to his place. Sherlock didn’t argue. Greg organised some scrubs for him to wear and he didn’t even protest. That showed Greg how weak he still was. Normally he would have thrown a tantrum. He never would have taken the scrubs. After they had reached Greg’s house, he had placed him on the sofa. Sherlock wrung his hands.  
“I have nothing left. You need to ask Myc for money.” Greg raised a brow when handing him a mug with tea. Sherlock took it with shaking hands and slurped the hot fluid.  
“What do you mean you have nothing left? Surely you have clothes or some personal belongings I could get?” But Sherlock just shook his head.  
“No, I have been away for five days. Everything will have been taken away.” He looked sad. Right then Greg’s mobile dinged with a text alert. He looked at the display.

_“All his things are safe. Tell him.”  
MH_

Greg cleared his throat and looked at Sherlock. But he was having no words so he just showed him the display.  
“Have you met my brother? Has he seen me?” Sherlock asked.  
“Yes, he came over right after you have been brought in. He looked at your file and then left. He is weird.” Sherlock snorted.  
“You have no idea.” Suddenly his stomach rumbled and it made Greg smile.  
“You are not actually hungry, are you?” Sherlock looked at him.  
“Don’t make fun of me, please. And I am actually hungry. But not too much.”  
“What about a slice of buttered toast and some scrambled eggs?” Greg asked.  
“Sounds fine.” Sherlock followed Greg into the kitchen and leant against the door.  
“Where is all your stuff?” Greg looked over his shoulder.  
“This question tells me everything about your state of mind, Sherlock. My wife left me and she took everything she wanted.”  
“Why didn’t you stop her?” Sherlock asked looking at Greg’s back. Greg just shrugged.  
“I didn’t care enough. I don’t want to be surrounded by things that have belonged to her. She may get happy with them. I can buy new furniture.” He almost sounded angry.  
“I am sorry to be such a nuisance. I’ll go away as soon as possible.” Greg turned around at once and stepped up to him. He gently touched his arm. He knew that Sherlock normally didn’t like to be touched. And after what had happened a few days ago Greg wondered if he would lash out. But he didn’t. He tensed though and stared at Greg’s hand on his arm but he also didn’t tell him to let go.  
“You are my friend, Sherlock. You need my help. And I offered it to you. I am also very happy about the fact that you are staying here and I am not alone. Don’t you worry, please?” Sherlock smiled a shy smile.  
Right then the doorbell rang and Greg went to see who it was. He opened the door and there stood a guy looking like security. He held a box up for Greg.  
“Mr Holmes sends this for his brother. He asks to tell him that he has his violin just to keep it safe. Have a nice day.” He shoved the box into Greg arms and left. Greg just sighed and kicked the door close. He placed the box in the living-room and continued on Sherlock’s food.  
Sherlock was already nibbling on the toast and looked like he would faint any second. Greg felt pity and put him into bed. He made him sit against the headrest and fed him the eggs afterwards. Sherlock’s eyes drooped but he forced a glass of water into him, too, before he let go.  
“I am on the sofa. Shout if you need me.” He looked at him and Sherlock was barely able to nod. Greg pulled up the blanket and couldn’t help himself. He once brushed over his greasy hair and then left the room.  
He was curious and took the box. He sliced it open and found brand-new but freshly washed clothing. Perhaps his brother wasn’t as bad as it seemed.  
He tried to read a book but couldn’t concentrate. He wondered if he should talk to Sherlock about what had happened. But what if he didn’t remember a thing? What if he really still was a virgin? Greg rubbed his forehead sighing. Then his mobile dinged again. He raised a brow and slowly picked it up from the table.

_“He needs to talk about it.”  
MH_

“Bloody hell …” Greg thought staring at the text and on an impulse he texted back.

_“How are you doing this?”  
GL_

He pressed send and waited biting his lower lip.

_“How am I doing what, DI Lestrade?”  
MH_

Greg sighed but a small grin came up.

_“The clairvoyance.”  
GL_

***

Mycroft Holmes read Gregory Lestrade’s latest text and just had to laugh out loud. Anthea looked up. She sat opposite of him at the desk typing both on her mobile and a laptop. Their eyes met and Anthea liked the expression on his face.  
“Is it the DI?” She asked straightforward and he looked again. Somehow, he felt a bit off.  
“Yes, it is. He insinuates I am a clairvoyant.” He looked rather smug saying so.  
“I think he isn’t insinuating since it’s somewhat true.” Both of them looked smug now.  
“What will you be texting back, Sir?” She asked and saw with interest how he chewed on his lower lip.  
“I will text him something he won’t ever expect.” He answered slowly typing already.  
“Dinner at the Diogenes Club?” Anthea asked a bit excited since she knew what that normally meant.  
“No, dinner at my place.” Anthea was very surprised. For a second Mycroft’s thumb hovered over the send button but then he pressed down.

***

_“I could explain during dinner? My place this Friday at 8 pm.”  
MH_

Greg stared at the display. Should he confirm this meeting? But was it a meeting? Dinner at his private place sounded more like … Like what? Like a date? Had he been just invited by the British government on a dinner date? Should he ask Sherlock what to do? He made a quick decision after all and confirmed.

_“I am excited. Want me to bring something?”  
GL_

A few seconds later the answer popped up as if he had been waiting for his reply.

_“No need. Just be there and be ready to listen.”  
MH_

Greg grinned and shook his head. Friday still was a few days away. He was rather sure that he could leave Sherlock alone by then. He wouldn’t do anything stupid. And just to be on the safe side he could ask Dr Hooper to look after him. She wouldn’t mind at all and Sherlock respected her. They would have a lot to talk about, mostly bodies and parts of them.

***

Sherlock kept sleeping during all this. Greg checked on him every single hour but he kept sleeping rather peacefully. The worst time was over and back then he had been in hospital. Greg knew it was soon time to occupy his mind again. He needed to think of something.  
Greg was nursing a glass of wine the other evening when it knocked on his door. He sighed but stood. He expected his wife to rip him of his last belongings. He was in the right mood when he tore open the door. He just wanted to start shouting when he saw who it was.  
“Good evening, DI Lestrade.” Mycroft Holmes said with his public-school accent, the very posh sort of way. Greg swallowed. He had been close to push him off the door-sill. He felt the heat creep up his neck and face and cleared his throat.  
“Good evening, Mr Holmes. Would you like to see your brother? Please come in. He is sleeping though.” Mycroft Holmes smirked at him but entered his place. Greg closed both his eyes and the door thinking:  
“God, I am babbling like a drooling idiot.” Mycroft Holmes stood in his living-room looking around.  
“Would you like something to drink? Beer? Wine?” Greg politely offered while his guest placed his umbrella – why was he carrying an umbrella around anyway? – against the sofa. He also shed his coat. Greg quickly took it and hung it up by the door. He had been left with exactly the one hook.  
“Tea, one sugar, please.” Sherlock’s brother suddenly said. Greg needed a second to get it but then hurried to get him his drink. He wondered what he wanted. Just yesterday he had invited him over for dinner. Perhaps he had decided to come over and cancel the date. Date? Fuck …  
Greg’s brain was swirling and he tried to stop and calm down while preparing his tea. He carried it back into his living-room and handed it over.  
“Thank you.” He took it and their fingers brushed together. Greg felt being hit like by a thunderbolt or something. It shot right through him and he jerked. Some tea splashed over the edge. Mycroft Holmes looked just as surprised as he did.  
“Gods, I am so sorry.” Greg murmured and got a napkin. Mycroft ignored it completely.  
“How is my brother doing, DI Lestrade?” He finally asked after a few sips. Greg seriously looked at him.  
“I made him eat a toast and some eggs yesterday. He is sleeping since then and I let him. I am checking on him every hour but he seems to be fine, no nightmares and seizures or pain at all. And I wanted to suggest a bath later.” Mycroft slowly nodded.  
“Very good.” He finished his tea and placed the mug on the floor since there was no table anymore.  
“Listen, if you need anything, if costs need to be covered, just call me, please?” He handed over a card.  
“Please, Mr Holmes, don’t offend me. Sherlock is my friend.” Greg’s dark eyes pierced into Mycroft Holmes’ who just wasn’t used to such behaviour. He was utterly surprised; he had to admit that to himself.  
“Apologies, DI Lestrade. I didn’t mean to be rude.” He pocketed the card again. Greg was appeased. He took the opportunity to look at Mycroft Holmes while said one checked out his place. There wasn’t much to check out though and their eyes met again.  
Mycroft Holmes had grey-blue eyes; Greg noticed. He also had thin lips and a long nose. He was also tall and slim but with a nice figure. He had a want-to-grope arse hidden in his bespoke dress-trousers. Greg thought he was hiding too much of his attractive body beneath his posh clothes. Suddenly their eyes met and Greg cast his quickly again.  
His guest was watching him, too. He found Greg very attractive. These dark brown wonderful eyes, the wrinkles coming from too much laughter around them as well as his striking grey-hair cut in a nice, sharp way. His style of clothes though wasn’t too good. Well, what would you expect of a policeman, he thought. Also, this flat was just horrid but his wife had taken everything away. He also seemed to be very loyal. He was Sherlock’s friend and took good care of his brother. Mycroft was both attracted and frightened.  
Then he asked for another tea. His eye widened when he looked at Greg’s pert behind and seeing the cut in his jeans right beneath the left cheek. He felt the heat creep up his chest and neck and wished for a cigarette. He also wished and hoped that the DI wouldn’t turn around now and see his state.

***

They sat there for quite some time that evening and Mycroft told him a bit more about Sherlock. Then he asked about his work and Greg told him about some cases that were rather unsolvable to him. Mycroft just smirked.  
Suddenly they both heard Sherlock retch. They jumped up. Mycroft went straight into the bedroom and Greg fetched a bucket and followed suit. He came right in time. Mycroft held his brother up and Greg held the bucket until Sherlock was done. He was sweaty and hot. His body twitched. He groaned.  
Greg took the bucket away and cleaned his face. He also made him drink again. He waited until he had calmed down and only left his side by then. Outside he looked at Mycroft who had shed his jacket and waistcoat because Sherlock had puked on it.  
“Your shirt is also dirty.” Greg said pointing at a stain Mycroft hadn’t seen. He sighed and looked up at him.  
“I can give you a t-shirt, if you like? But probably my well-worn cotton will just rough your fair skin off your bones.” Greg’s attempt to flirt hit home because he could see his earlobes redden.  
“I believe such a thing is not possible, DI Lestrade. But I would appreciate it anyway.” Greg smiled and went to get a shirt for him. Lucky him he had just washed and found him a dark-green one without any funny print.  
“Here you go. The bathroom is over there.” Mycroft took it and closed the door behind him. He took his dress-shirt off and instead pulled Lestrade’s t-shirt over his head. It was smooth on his skin and hung a bit loose on him. It also was a bit on the short side. But the colour was good, he thought. He moved his palm over it and then pulled the neck a bit off to sniff it. He almost was disappointed that it only smelled of fabric softener.  
Greg looked at him when he came out of the bath and just had to smile. Surprisingly Mr Holmes smiled back and it made him look oddly attractive. On a whim Greg blurted out a question.  
“Would you like to stay for some take-away?” He almost looked hopeful. Mycroft only thought about it for a second.  
“Yes, I actually would. Chinese? I know a good place that also does delivery.” Greg swallowed. The places this guy knew where probably as pricey as a weekend away for him. But he decided to be brave.  
“Yes, I’d love that.” Mycroft pulled out his mobile and actually ordered in Chinese. Greg was in awe. Afterwards he could watch him getting comfy. He toed his shoes off and put them by his other stuff.  
“I’d like to have the wine now you offered earlier, if you please?” He looked at Greg.  
“Sure thing.” Greg just did as being told. He opened the bottle and found them two glasses. His wife had left him with exactly one glass each. So, he got Mycroft Holmes the proper glass and he took a smaller water glass. Mycroft raised a brow when seeing that and Greg started to explain.  
“I am glad I was able to hide the wine from her …” He muttered and it made Mycroft smile.  
“Come and sit on your sofa at least while we are waiting. You are just standing there staring at me.” Greg swallowed but slowly came over.  
“What is it you do exactly?” Greg suddenly asked out of the blue.  
“I am sure Sherlock must have mentioned it before.” Mycroft answered.  
“He kept talking about you being the government, working for MIfuck, the Secret Service as well as the CIA as a freelancer. I thought he was exaggerating a lot, right?” Greg smiled but Mycroft Holmes didn’t.  
“Well, I only occupy a minor position with the British government.” He sounded almost shy and Greg slanted his eyes. He knew this was an act.  
“Please don’t lie to me.” He quietly said.  
“For the sake of Sherlock. I need to trust you.”  
“Very well. If I’d be using my brother’s words, it would be “If I tell you I would have to kill you”.” Greg laughed out loud.  
“You know, I swore an oath, don’t you? You don’t have to worry. Ever.” He reached out his hand and Mycroft took it. Again, it hit them both like an electric shock. Both men smiled.  
“I know. If I would think so, I wouldn’t have left my brother behind with you.” The door-bell rang and Mycroft got up to get their food. He also paid and Greg had no idea how much. He didn’t ask. Instead he got his one and only plate and such and carried everything into the living-room. He would eat directly out of the containers. He was used to that since he often ate in his office.  
He quickly built a little stack from books to make a replacement coffee-table and Mycroft was taken aback. This was so different from everything he knew or had ever done. Not even at university when he had lived there, he had been tidy.  
“Here, take this. They also brought plates and everything else.” Greg looked up and was surprised. He quickly used the provided things with a smile on his face. Mycroft was happy because he had done the right thing by ordering these, as well.  
They ate and the first bite elicited a low moan from Greg.  
“This is great; Gods, delicious!” He barely got the words out. Mycroft was pleased and smiled.  
“I am glad you like it.” They ate in companionable silence and sipped the wine.  
“Next time I will bring stuff to your place.” Greg suddenly said making Mycroft raise a brow.  
“So, there is a next time after tonight?” He asked looking directly into his eyes. Greg was rarely intimidated but now he somehow was. He swallowed.  
“If you want it to be? Or do you think this is our dinner we actually wanted to have this Friday?” He carefully asked waiting. Mycroft looked thoughtful for just a second. Then he licked over his lower lip and Greg just stared at the tip of his tongue moving over it.  
“Absolutely not. Friday at my place with the things you will be bringing over.” Greg’s smile was everything. He would be having a much-extended shower-session after he got home.  
“I bet your place is much comfier than this.” Greg grinned and Mycroft had to smirk a bit.  
“I believe it is, yes.” They sipped some more wine.  
“I will ask Dr Hooper to look after Sherlock on Friday since I don’t want to leave him alone.” Mycroft nodded.  
“I look forward to it. Call me about Sherlock anyway.” Greg nodded.  
“Yes, Sir.” He even mock-saluted him and Mycroft raised a brow.  
“Are you behaving like this at the Yard, too?” He asked.  
“Like what? Like the sassy me? Oh, absolutely. My superiors hate me but I have the highest crime-solving rate all over the place, thanks to your brother. So, they let me.” Greg nonchalantly shrugged.  
Mycroft fantasised about teaching some behaviour to Greg. Greg fantasised about his behind and the rest of his body. How it would feel to touch his skin and peel his ridiculous clothes off of him.  
Suddenly Greg had to yawn and quickly covered his mouth.  
“I am sorry.” Mycroft smiled and just nodded.  
“No, don’t be. I understand. And my silly brother occupies your bed so you have to sleep on your sofa and will have a bad back for days.” Greg sighed.  
“Please don’t remind me …” They laughed and Mycroft got up.  
“I’ll be in touch?” It was more a question than a statement.  
“Please do so.” Mycroft answered and Greg walked him to the door. A car just rode up and Greg raised a brow.  
“You have time off while taking care of Sherlock. I saw to that. You will be having no problems. Concentrate fully on him, please?” Greg was surprised.  
“Oi, you can’t just do that without telling me!” He was a bit annoyed.  
“But yes, I can, DI Lestrade. And I already did. Don’t make a fuss, please? Tantrums don’t suit you.”  
“Oh, you have no idea …” Greg whispered being a bit angry by now. He stared up at the man who stared back at him right over his nose. He fantasised about Greg throwing a temper tantrum and him holding him down. He quickly cleared his throat.  
“Please, I only meant well, DI Lestrade. Don’t pout.” Mycroft smiled a little bit and Greg couldn’t be angry anymore.  
“OK, thanks, I think. See you, Mr Holmes.” Greg smiled up at him.  
“Please, it’s Mycroft.” He reached out for him again awaiting the hit. Greg took his hand doing the same.  
“Greg it is then for you.” They touched and sparkles flew.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock lives with Greg to get healthy and clean again. Greg has a dinner-date with Mycroft and asks Dr Hooper to baby-sit Sherlock. Sherlock doesn't like to be baby-sit. Will Greg have a good time at Mycroft's?

The next morning Sherlock stumbled out of the bathroom but looked a bit better already.  
“You wanked in the shower!” He accusingly looked at Greg who turned dark red.  
“I am sorry. I thought I had cleaned it enough.” Sherlock snorted and poured a tea with shaking hands. Only a towel was wound around his skinny bones and Greg worriedly looked at him.  
“You did. Please, Greg, you know my capabilities.” Greg grinned and cast his eyes. It had been a memorable shower.  
“Again, I am sorry.” He moved up to him to get him the milk from the fridge. Sherlock looked thankful leaning against the wall.  
“How are you feeling?” Greg quietly asked helping him over to the sofa.  
“Has my brother been here?” Greg nodded.  
“He had someone bring you some stuff to dress into. He is worried about you. I will meet him again this Friday and Molly will come over to look after you.” Sherlock pulled a face.  
“I don’t need a baby-sitter, Lestrade.” Greg raised a brow.  
“You think?” Sherlock pouted but didn’t talk back.  
“Did he invite you home or to the club?” Sherlock changed the subject.  
“Home. Why?” Sherlock just looked at him but didn’t say a word. Instead he drank his tea. After a few minutes he asked:  
“I thought I was dreaming, imagining him by my side.” Sherlock looked thoughtful.  
“You puked on him very successfully. I bet you hate having missed that.” Greg grinned.  
“I did? Damn!” Both men laughed.  
“Where are the things Mycroft had have brought over?” Greg stood and placed the box by his side.  
“This is it. I had a look. It contains some nice clothes.” Sherlock rummaged through the things snorting.  
“No mobile? No laptop? No money?” He asked rather not pleased.  
“No, and you know exactly why, Sherlock.” He sighed and looked up.  
“I do, don’t I?” He pulled out a jeans and a tee and disappeared into the bathroom again. Greg carried the box into his bedroom for him to do with as he liked.  
He decided to milk Sherlock for more information about his brother. And afterwards he would try to make him talk about the events in that horrible drug den. Hopefully he would talk. He should talk.  
Sherlock returned and looked much better. And so Greg told him.  
“I do feel better. Thanks to you, Lestrade. Again.” He looked at his hands which were stuck between his thighs. Greg pulled him close and felt him tense but he didn’t let go.  
“You will make it. Together we will make it. But you have to stop using, Sherlock. I will try to help you but I can’t give you cases when you are high. Promise me!” Sherlock made a throaty sound but nodded.  
“Promise …” They sat like this for a while until Sherlock moved out of his hold. He looked at him.  
“I remember now I got sick over Myc’s clothes. Do I really remember that right?” He asked and looked almost hopeful.  
“Yes, you do. I gave him a t-shirt of mine.” Sherlock grinned.  
“Did he take it?” Greg shrugged.  
“Sure thing, otherwise he would have been naked.” Sherlock grinned even more.  
“Did you take a picture?” He asked.  
“Of course, I didn’t!” Greg almost shouted at him but had to grin, too.  
“I have to puke all over him again then. Be there.” Greg reached out for him.  
“Please don’t?” Both men smiled.  
“OK. Promise to text Molly on Friday so I know what’s going on.” Greg sighed.  
“Promise.” Sherlock looked pleased. Then he changed to serious again looking into his eyes.  
“I know you want me to talk. But I can’t. I can’t talk about what happened. I mean except for taking drugs, drinking and smoking and such. The other thing, I just can’t.” Sherlock only whispered.  
“I read your file in the hospital, Sherlock. I know what almost happened and how they found you.” Sherlock swallowed.  
“My mind was all fuzzy, my vision was blurry. I have been hit several times and fell to the ground. I realised my clothes were taken off rather rudely and I wasn’t able to do anything. I felt the hands but it felt like an alien touching me. But since I hurt almost everywhere except for my behind I assume nothing too bad happened.” Sherlock didn’t look at Greg.  
“No, they did a test. It’s the routine thing to do. And you haven’t been raped, not to the end though. What happened to you is awful and I will do my best to find the guilty person who did this to you.” Sherlock shrugged.  
“Oh, I can tell you who did this to me.” Greg just stared at him.  
“What?” You can? But why ...?” He asked sounding absolutely clueless. Sherlock sighed.  
“I had been staying in that house for some days. I still had something left which I took over the time. When it was gone my dealer came up to me and offered me more. Of course, I wanted more and gave him my last money. And I really had no more, you see? But he didn’t believe me because I always had more. And everything started.” Sherlock again kept staring at his hands stuck between his thighs. Somehow, he wished that Greg would hold him again.  
“Sherlock, you can stay here as long as you want, like and need. I will take care of you. Really, I don’t want you to stay all by yourself now. At least think about it, please?” And Greg gently placed his hand on Sherlock’s.  
For the first time Sherlock reacted actively to such a thing. He placed his left on top of Greg’s and smiled. He didn’t look at him though but for Greg it was enough.  
“I don’t have to. I’d like to stay for a bit if you have me. I don’t want to be alone. But I will give you the bed back as soon as possible.” Greg quietly laughed.  
“Nonsense, everything is fine.” He looked at their hands and felt good.

***

Friday arrived and Greg got ready for his dinner-date. He still called it date inside his head. In fact, he had no idea what would happen tonight. He stared into his bathroom-mirror and used some after-shave. The fact that he even had shaved made him feel rather proud of himself. He looked good for a man his age. He winked at himself. Then he smirked and left the bath.  
Outside he was met by Sherlock who looked him up and down. Then he just shook his head and went to look out of the window waiting for Molly. Greg wondered what that was about. And since he knew Sherlock, he also knew he just had to ask because he wouldn’t tell.  
“What kind of look was that, Sherlock?” He walked up to him and he turned around to face him.  
“You made some effort to look good. Are you trying to impress my brother, Lestrade?” He looked smug. Greg felt the heat crawl up his neck.  
“What? No! Of course not. I just thought he is so posh and so would be his place. That’s why I tried to look …” He stopped talking when Sherlock started to laugh. And it was such a wonderful sound that Greg laughed, too.  
“Oh, shut it, you git!” He said instead and once rubbed over his arm.  
“There is our beloved ghoul.” Sherlock suddenly said.  
“Sherlock, please don’t. You know her and she keeps thinking about such things.” Greg admonished him.  
“Oh, dear. She thinks about every word and move I make.” Then he snorted.  
“Please behave tonight. She was nice enough to come over and sit with you. Don’t be mean to her?”  
“I won’t, don’t worry. She is a nice person. I will survive the evening. Perhaps I will even listen to her talking about cats and such.” He pulled a face. Greg had to grin.  
“I believe your brother won’t be talking about cats?” Greg suddenly asked out of the blue. Sherlock turned his head.  
“Nope.” He didn’t say more. Greg started to feel a bit desperate.  
“But what can I talk to him about? He didn’t seem to be the football type of guy either.” Now Sherlock showed him his teeth and it opened Greg’s heart.  
“He will lead you through your evening together, believe me. Just go there and have a good time.” Now he looked smug again. Right then it knocked and Greg turned to open it.  
“Molly, come in. Thanks for taking over.” He smiled at her and she smiled back. Then they hugged and entered the living-room. Sherlock politely stood. Greg looked pleased.  
“Molly, good evening.” He didn’t come up to her. She looked a bit shocked but suppressed her words. She couldn’t suppress her expressions though. They all showed clearly on her face and Sherlock looked away.  
“It’s good to see you, Sherlock. I brought food.” She held it up for him to see. And he had a look.  
“Is that pie? You once brought pie to the morgue.” Sherlock murmured. Molly blushed.  
“You remember? Oh … But yes, I made a pie for us. I can heat it up any time you like. Just tell me.” Now he came a few steps closer trying to see what else was in her bag.  
“I also baked cookies.” She quietly said and Sherlock relaxed.  
“This is really nice, Molly. Thank you.” He didn’t look at her but Greg found he could leave them alone.  
“I’ll be off then. Have a nice evening. Don’t punch him, Molly. Sherlock, be nice to her. See you later!” And gone he was. They looked after him and Molly smiled a little bit. Sherlock sighed and fell back on the sofa.  
Molly didn’t know where to sit and kept standing until their eyes met. Sherlock moved wordlessly into one corner so Molly could sit on the other end.  
“Would you like to talk? I could tell you about the new corpses I had on my table, Greg’s new cases and other mysteries?” She offered a bit excited.  
“Mysteries?” Sherlock snorted. Molly shrugged.  
“I kept taking care of your experiments you left behind.” Now that made him look up.  
“You did what? You could have destroyed them. That would have been the same result, I assume.” Now she pressed her lips tightly together.  
“Not at all. I have a degree, you see? I am a doctor. I am very much capable of both understanding and performing your experiments. And you also left your notes by the side.” She looked at her fingers.  
“I am still feeling a bit off. Forgive me. I promised Lestrade to behave.” Molly nodded.  
“It’s OK. Just so you know your experiments are just fine.”  
“Thank you.” They sat in silence for a while. Then Sherlock’s stomach started to rumble. Molly blushed but quickly stood and made herself busy in Greg’s kitchen.

***

The moment Greg stepped outside a black limo rode up the curb and stopped right in front of him. The driver got out and nodded at him.  
“DI Lestrade. Mr Holmes is sending this car for you to drive you over. Please have a seat. He also says not to worry about bringing take-away. He will provide your dinner tonight.” And he opened the door for Greg who felt a bit weird. He accepted it though and did sit down in the soft leather-seat and sighed. Then he eyed the offerings but he didn’t dare helping himself to a drink. Right then the driver spoke to him.  
“Would you like a drink? Please feel free. There are chocolate bars in the lower drawer, crisps in the middle drawer and jelly beans in the upper drawer.” Now Greg openly grinned. He poured a whiskey and enjoyed the extremely expensive drink. Then he ate a chocolate bar with a brand he had never even heard of. And then another. He licked his lips and felt better at once. He relaxed while being driven through London. He didn’t pay attention to the route they took but when they stopped, he was surprised how quickly time had passed.  
The door was opened for him again and he got out. He stood in front of a posh place in one of the best parts of London. He swallowed.  
“Minor position in the government my arse …” Greg muttered and walked up the stairs. Before he could even knock the door was opened by an older butler.  
“Welcome to Land’s End, DI Lestrade. Please come in.” The butler made an inviting gesture. Greg suppressed a grin. What a name for a home. He was led deeper into the house. No, it was more a fucking palace, Greg thought.  
“Please, Mr Holmes is expecting you.” He opened a door for him and Greg entered Mycroft’s living-room. Salon?  
“DI Lestrade, welcome to my place.” Mycroft Holmes appeared out of the dark moving towards Greg. He looked as impeccable as ever and Greg felt rather badly dressed. He also wondered why they were back to last names. Mycroft probably had forgotten. But did this man ever forget anything? Greg’s brain was wandering off without him. The reply was almost automatic.  
“Thanks for the invitation, Mr Holmes. What would you like to discuss?” Greg asked rather formally.  
“Please sit down. Would you like another drink? And call me Mycroft. Again.” He looked directly into his eyes.  
“Yes, thank you. Mycroft.” He let the name roll over his tongue and moved over to the sofa. He sat down in his corner and watched him pouring drinks. He handed him a crystal tumbler and sat down, too.  
“I may call you Gregory, I presume?” Mycroft asked sipping his drink. Greg looked up.  
“It’s Greg, if you don’t mind.” Mycroft raised a brow but didn’t reply. They kept looking at each other.  
“So?” Greg finally broke the staring contest and Mycroft sighed.  
“I invited you over to thank you again for taking care of my brother. You have no idea how grateful I am. I also know that Sherlock considers you a friend.” Greg suddenly felt warm.  
“He is my friend, Mycroft. He is a good guy and I will always help him.” Greg was serious.  
“I had dinner prepared. Would you like to eat now or rather later?” Mycroft asked.  
“Perhaps another half an hour to savour my drink?” Greg asked.  
“Very well.” Mycroft leant back into the sofa and kept looking at him. Greg felt scrutinised.  
“What will we be having for dinner?” He finally wanted to know and dared to ask. Mycroft licked his lips.  
“Steak and fries.” He answered and Greg was rather surprised.  
“Really? That’s’ nice …” Greg said not really knowing what to say. Mycroft smiled.  
“I thought it would suit your taste, Gregory.” Greg raised a brow.  
“It sure does. Myc.” Mycroft was shocked, Greg could see that and he grinned. He cleared his throat.  
“Mycroft is my given name and I’d prefer if you’d use it.” He sounded serious but Greg kept grinning.  
“I will call you Myc as long as you keep calling me Gregory.” Mycroft slanted his eyes.  
“Are you challenging me? Again?” But there was a sparkle in his blue-grey-icy eyes.  
“I suppose so.” Both men smiled and Greg wondered if this was how Mycroft Holmes flirted. He finished his drink and watched Mycroft type something into his mobile. Then he stood.  
“Please join me for dinner, Gregory.” He led the way and Greg followed him into an intimidating dining-room. The huge dark wooden table was already laid out and Greg was in awe. It was beautiful and there were candles burning. The moment they had sat down someone brought in the food. Greg’s was cooked to perfection in exactly the way he loved it. He found it rather scary. He didn’t even ask how Mycroft knew how he liked his steak.  
They sat through dinner almost completely silent. Only now and then their eyes met and they smiled. Both men felt very good.  
After dinner another drink was served and they returned to the sofa. Only this time Mycroft had moved a lot closer.  
“I wonder …” Mycroft’s forefinger hovered right above Greg’s thigh. Greg swallowed and looked at it.  
“What do you wonder?” He asked with a rather deep voice.  
“I wonder if I could shock you again?” Mycroft asked and got closer. Greg didn’t move or stood.  
“Perhaps it was me shocking you instead?” Greg asked making Mycroft smile.  
“Let’s see, shall we?” And Mycroft placed his finger way up high on Greg’s inner thigh. His leg twitched and it was like being hit again. He felt the heat crawl up like before and looked away.  
“Look at me, Gregory.” Slowly he looked up at him and swallowed. He hoped he wasn’t as red as he felt hot. He also hoped that Mycroft wouldn’t notice his growing erection. He tried to hold his gaze. Mycroft looked smug.  
“Adorable …” Mycroft whispered. Greg swallowed and his throat was very, very dry.  
“What are you doing?” He roughly asked.  
“I believe flirting is the correct term in this matter, my dear Gregory.” Now Greg did blush.  
“What? But …” He didn’t know what to say. This man was flirting with him? And how did he know anyway that Greg had been with men in his past? Before his wife? Who had just left him and now he was free to do what he wanted?  
“You have no idea, my dear, no idea at all.” Mycroft’s eyes roamed over Greg’s body. The expression Mycroft’s face showed was a mystery to Greg because he found it just couldn’t be. His mouth stood a bit open and he was still concentrated on his fingertip on his inner thigh. It hadn’t moved at all.  
“You are reading my mind, aren’t you?” Greg asked a bit breathlessly. And now their eyes met. Their noses almost touched when Mycroft leant forward.  
“Mostly I don’t have to. Your expression does the talking. I can read you.” His whispers became rough and his breath ghosted over Greg’s ear. He was almost panting and he closed his eyes.  
“Look at me, Greg!” Suddenly his voice was rather commanding and his hand was placed on Greg’s chest. He shakingly inhaled and his eyes opened focussing on Mycroft. He licked his lips and Mycroft stared at his mouth.  
Greg felt the finger move upwards. Suddenly he wasn’t able to move. He could just stare into the man’s eyes. The finger stopped half a millimetre before it was able to touch his groin. Greg was sweating by now and he felt it trickle down his spine.  
Mycroft smirked and licked his own lips.  
“You are aroused, Gregory. So am I.” His thumb brushed over his still covered nipple and Greg let out a noise he had no idea he was able to make. He probably had never made such a noise before in a situation like this.  
Mycroft moved even closer so their thighs were pressed together. Greg could feel the body-heat, the warmth of Mycroft’s leg, his palm and his breath. His lips were almost too close for comfort but whom was he kidding? His eyes fluttered close when he felt his lips brush over his jaw and his head fell back against the sofa. He heard him chuckle and opened his eyes again. He looked up and saw adoration and fondness and something more. Things he hadn’t seen for a long, long time; things that hadn’t been in his wife’s eyes; probably never had been.  
He very much wanted to touch Mycroft and his hands came up.  
“No!” Again, Mycroft used the commanding voice that made Greg still with his arms half way up. Mycroft slowly moved to take his wrists in one strong hand with fingers so long. He placed them behind his head on the sofa and held them down. Greg slid a bit down the sofa and would have problems getting up if he would be inclined to do so.  
But he wasn’t inclined at all. The move made his guts coil and his chest became constricted. His breathing became heavier by the second and his cock was close to wiggle its way out of from behind the zip. He felt it leaking already and swallowed dryly.  
Mycroft was still holding his eyes captive and probably knew what was happening right now. He knew what was happening in both his pants and chest. Greg just knew it and it aroused him even more.  
He didn’t fight and let himself being held down. The power-play they were doing was exciting. He thought of the love-making with his wife and snorted thinking about it. They never had done more than vanilla. He had never asked for more. Most of the time he wasn’t home anyway and when he was, he had been too exhausted to do her properly.  
He remembered his time at university where he had had several boy-friends who had liked bondage and other weird stuff. He had loved it, being tied down, forced to do the nasty stuff.  
“Give me your eyes, Gregory.” A soft demand coming from Mycroft’s lips and Greg did look up. Their eyes met and Greg couldn’t but moan quietly. It elicited a triumphant smile on Mycroft’s face. It also came closer and closer until their lips met.  
Greg didn’t move a bit. He just waited. He just wanted to take. And then he took everything.  
Mycroft was just a little bit surprised that it went so easily. Gregory was obviously returning his feelings. The looks he gave him made him shiver and his spine was tingling. He had done his research on the man back to his time at university. He knew about his sex-life there and the not so sexy life during his marriage. He had no children. Mycroft wondered why. He could imagine Gregory Lestrade very well as a loving father.  
He had been attracted to Lestrade for a long time and had watched him over CCTV. That’s why he knew what he did or not did in bed; what he liked to eat and how it was supposed to be cooked. He would give him his life back, Mycroft had decided. He wanted him, very much so.  
Mycroft thought the sexiest thing was the fact that Lestrade wasn’t in any way intimidated. He was talking back and possessed a lot of sass.  
And not to forget he had saved Sherlock’s life multiple times. He let him stay in his flat and took care of him.  
For all that Mycroft adored him. Of course, he also found him very attractive. He decided to push him a bit.  
He pinched his nipple and at the same time pressed his lips on Greg’s mouth. He groaned and opened up so Mycroft took advantage of him. He sucked his tongue and his lower lip. He also bit and soon fucked him with his tongue. Greg melted into the sofa beneath him and was completely relaxed. He didn’t even try to reciprocate; he just took it. All this made Mycroft very, very hard.  
He let go with a bite into his jaw and looked into his eyes again. Greg’s pupils were completely dilated and he was breathing heard. So was Mycroft. Gently he moved the collar out of the way and bit into the place where neck met shoulder. His teeth left a mark and he licked over it. He could feel him shiver and swallow. He decided to move on.  
“Do you consent?” While asking he pressed his wrists together and made it hurt. Greg hissed but his dick twitched. Mycroft could feel it and smirked down at Greg.

***

Greg felt the pain in his wrists, the tender bite on his jaw and the not so tender sucking bite on his shoulder – or was it the neck? He hissed suppressing the groan he wanted to make. His cock would go off in his trousers any second now, he just knew it. Their eyes met again and Greg licked his parched lips. His breathing stuttered but he got it out.  
“Yes, I do consent. Myc.” He couldn’t stop himself. He was actually provoking Mycroft fucking Holmes and he looked forward to what he would do now. Mycroft’s eyes slanted and a somewhat evil smile came up. His free hand twisted his nipple again making him throw his head back.  
“Eyes on me, Gregory!” He had become louder. Greg’s eyes were back on his and they stared at each other for minutes doing nothing.  
“Get up.” There was the next order coming and Greg quickly moved back on his legs. He fought a bit getting out of the depth of the sofa but he finally managed to not fall back into the softness of it. He had to look up a bit. His arms tingled from being held in the same position for such a long time. He didn’t mind though. It was a good tingling.  
“Turn around.” Greg swallowed but turned. He heard the clinking sound and the moment his brain made the connection his wrists were already secured by steel handcuffs. From the feeling they were military or police ones. Nothing soft like you got in the sex-shops. There was no chain connecting the cuffs but a steel handle. The metal was cold on his skin and he shivered. His cock was going to explode any second now. He closed his eyes.  
Mycroft took his arm and led him upstairs. Slowly they walked up the stairs and Mycroft opened the door to his bedroom. Greg’s eyes widened. This was like a bloody dream. The bed was as big as his whole bedroom at home. It had dark sheets on it and it was a wooden four-poster. Greg felt like in a fairy-tale.  
He tried to look around but Mycroft ripped his shirt open. Greg was sort of shocked when the buttons flew all over hardwood. One arm sneaked around his waist and the other started to pinch and tweak his nipples. Greg moved on the spot moaning and groaning. He didn’t give a fuck if this was appropriate or not. It was just hot.  
When Mycroft let go, he looked reproachfully up at him. He just got a grin in return.  
“Kneel, Gregory!” Another soft-spoken order and Greg just did what being told. He knelt straight up and Mycroft nodded approvingly while circling him several times. Then he got on his knees, too, and opened his trousers. Shortly before really touching him he stopped and stared into his eyes.  
“If you dare come on me or come at all without me telling you, I swear there will be consequences.” He only whispered the threat but Greg just nodded.  
“I am not. I won’t.” Slowly he shook his head and concentrated on the task at hand. Not to come.  
When Mycroft stuck his long fingers into his pants and took his prick out, he almost shouted at the intensity. His shoulders hunched and he clenched his eyes shut. And he didn’t only take it out but pulled it out very slowly and languidly.  
“Oh God! Myc! I can’t …” He was loud and rough but he managed to hold back. Mycroft stared at him and was in awe. Greg was such a beautiful, wonderful creature. He was so good for him and he already enjoyed this more than anything.  
Mycroft let him come down a bit until he locked eyes with him again.  
“So good for me …” He whispered and moved his palm over his head. Greg almost sobbed but could stop in time. Then Mycroft got up and turned away to a special drawer opening it. Inside were many toys. He rummaged a bit through the things to extend the suspense. He once looked over his shoulder and saw Greg swaying a bit with his eyes closed and his cock hard and erect and leaking.

***

Greg felt so good. He surely must be in sex-heaven with his personal sex-angel named Mycroft. He never had expected something like this to happen. This was amazing. He was kneeling on the hardwood in Mycroft fucking Holmes' bedroom, with a raging hard-on and his trousers and pants down to his knees. His arse was fully exposed and his wrists were cuffed behind his back. His shirt had been ripped off of him and hung halfway off his shoulder.  
He wondered what Mycroft would do to him now. He surely had something in mind. He could hear him rummage through his toys and he expectantly licked his lips trying to look over his shoulder.  
“Curiosity kills the cat, you know that, don’t you?” Mycroft said sauntering back to face him. He still was fully dressed in a three-piece-suit and looked really cool and threatening. Greg really did enjoy this.  
“Let’s see then what I’ve got for you. At first, he held up some nipple-clamps and just looked at him. Greg nodded. Mycroft rubbed his nipples with his nimble fingers until they were hard and erect. Then he adjusted the clamps and screwed them tight. The pain was directly transferred to his cock when Mycroft kissed him hard and forced his head back. He could just groan into his mouth.  
This was followed all of a sudden by a rude grip on his balls which made him yell out. His erection flagged and now he did sob once. Soon enough a cock-ring was pulled over and his balls got parted in the middle.  
“No …” Greg shook his head. He couldn’t believe this. He was being tortured by a maniac.  
Mycroft let out a tutting noise and muttered something about not polite enough and showing no respect. Greg’s eyes widened when he pulled out a rather huge ball-gag. He pressed two fingers into his jaw and forced it open. Greg had no choice but to open up and Mycroft shoved the silicone deep inside. He quickly buckled it tight and soon enough Greg started to drool.  
His lips were forced open into an obscene circle around the ball and his heart was beating so, so fast.  
Mycroft’s finger tenderly moved over his upper lip.  
“So beautiful for me …” Greg’s eyes watered. The tension was almost too much now and when the first tear fell Mycroft wiped it away with his thumb. The next thing Greg knew was that a blindfold was put over his eyes. His guts coiled and he really tensed.  
“Hush, nothing is going to happen to you. You do trust me, don’t you?” Greg nodded after a few seconds.  
“If you need me to stop, you just need to cross your middle and index-finger. Did you hear me?” Greg nodded again.  
“Show me!” Greg did that, too.  
“Very good. Let’s proceed then, shall we?” He once petted his head and Greg could feel him move to his side.  
“Get up!” His arm was taken and he tried to get up without falling with his trousers down. Mycroft just once swung him around and the next second he was pressed against the wooden post, his handcuffs were opened and as quickly closed in the front and over his head. They got attached to a hook Greg hadn’t seen before.  
“Step out of your shoes, please. Then get your socks off. At last please get rid of your trousers.” Greg wondered how he should manage that but he started to do it. Stepping out of his shoes was easy. He tried to hook his toe under the hem of his sock. A thing that was normally an easy thing to do wasn’t so easy anymore when you were blind and tied to a bedpost with your arms over your head. He wildly moved around which made the chain between the nipple-clamps moving and pulling at them. They were really sensitive and tender by now. He groaned around the ball-gag and heavily drooled. Finally, he had managed to get his socks off his feet and shimmy his trousers down and step out of them.  
Only then Mycroft very slowly pulled his pants down and let him step out of those, too. He was still clad in his shirt and he was going to keep it halfway on.  
He could feel Mycroft very close to him. His breath was ghosting over the side of his head. He sucked his earlobe into his mouth and then started to whisper.  
“I will make you scream. I will make you beg. I will make you mine.” Greg shivered when being touched all over. He tried to press into the touch but Mycroft kept moving back.  
“No topping from the bottom, Gregory. Stop it right now!” Greg once sobbed but stilled and let him be touched.  
Mycroft kept looking at Greg. He couldn’t believe his luck. He hardly could believe that this fine specimen consented to do this with him, let him do these things to him. Mycroft was in awe. He would never let him go again.  
He knew he had to be so very careful. He couldn’t exaggerate, couldn’t hurt him or he would leave. So, he decided to be just tenderly wicked. He moved his palms all over his body until the man was a moaning, drooling, shaking mess. He pressed their bodies together and Greg just rested his head on his shoulder sobbing loudly. Mycroft didn’t mind that he had to dry-clean his suit later. This was worth even ruining it.  
“Hush, Gregory. Come down.” He whispered with a gravelly voice and felt him shudder. He also felt his legs and arms tremble and the sheer exhaustion showed on his face. It was enough now.  
Mycroft took off the ball-gag and Greg’s jaw cracked. He got the cuffs, too, and gently lowered him down on the sheets. He kept the blindfold and the clamps on and Greg was too weak to do anything about it. He just lay there on the bed breathing and his lips stood a bit open.  
Mycroft looked for a few seconds more until he got rid of his clothes, too. He moved all over his body and Greg only let out little whimpering noises. They made Mycroft even harder and he gently bit into Greg’s cock. The noise that came out of Greg was something Mycroft wanted to have as a ringtone on his mobile. He started to lick and suck and took his girth all in, let him touch his throat.  
Now Greg openly cried and tears kept falling from beneath the fabric that covered his eyes. Slowly Mycroft took it off. Greg’s eyes were directed at the ceiling but Mycroft could see that he saw nothing. He was close to reaching subspace. He gently rubbed over his stomach and a smile came up. With one click he loosened the cock-ring and gave him one stroke up. It was enough.  
Greg came all over Mycroft’s face, his hand and himself. And he didn’t make a single noise. He just passed out.  
No one had ever blacked out while or after having had sex with Mycroft Holmes. He was still half hard and hadn't emptied himself completely. Mycroft was quite a bit shocked and just stared for a few seconds until he moved into action.

***

Greg tried to follow Mycroft’s touching hands in the dark but he was denied. The suspense made him feel constricted; it constricted him more than the cuffs did. He hung on the edge. The passion and pain-pleasure this man provided was overwhelming him and he started to cry. He hated himself for it but he couldn’t stop. He rested his head against Mycroft and felt the luxurious fabric against his skin.  
Suddenly he felt fingers behind his head and the gag was taken off. He relaxed his jaw and hardly realised that his hands were free, too. Then he was gently lowered on the mattress. His limbs were shaking. Then Mycroft was all over him and finally grazed his teeth over his cock. Greg choked out an embarrassing noise and started to cry again. This time he wasn’t able to stop.  
The blindfold was taken away and he blinked. He felt like he was drifting away. He was carried away by the water, gentle waves surrounding him, the water was warm. He relaxed and gave in. His eyes weren’t focused but he felt just wonderful. He felt drained out.  
He also felt Mycroft’s warm palm rub over his muscled stomach. He smiled because it felt so nice. His fingers touching his penis and testicles felt nice, too. So nice that he just had to let go. Everything went dark so very slowly.  
He had no idea how long he was gone but when he opened his eyes it was to the skin of Mycroft’s body. He held him close to his own. He was covered by a blanket and slowly blinked his eyes open. He lifted one shaking arm to rub over his eyes. He blinked them open and felt exhausted, absolutely, terrifyingly exhausted.  
“Myc?” He roughly asked looking up. On the way up his eyes realised that Mycroft was naked. The information reached his brain and did shock him just a little bit. How long had he been out? What did he miss?  
“Gregory? How do you feel? You scared me a bit, I have to admit.” Mycroft quietly spoke to him while his long fingers moved over his back in circles. Greg lazily smiled.  
“I feel wonderful. I have no idea what you did but it was fantastic. You did everything perfectly. Don’t be scared anymore.” Greg had whispered his answer and crawled closer.  
Suddenly he realised that he had blacked out. Mycroft deserved something back, he needed to come, too.  
“I am sorry I have blacked out and couldn’t make you come; Myc. Would you like me to help you with it now?” Mycroft smiled and played with his hair now.  
“Who says I haven’t come? Everything is fine, Greg. Just relax.” Greg closed his eyes again and deeply inhaled. Mycroft smelled of faint cigarettes, a little bit of alcohol and some after-shave. Plus, his very special scent.  
They rested for a while and Greg fell asleep now and again in his arms. Mycroft kept watching him. He wondered if this could be more. Could this be the one? He worried his bottom lip and kept looking.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft and Greg enjoy the following day after their sexual encounter. Greg stays for breakfast and they talk some more.
> 
> Molly stays with Sherlock and takes care of him while having a nightmare.
> 
> Greg comes home and he is a bit scared about what he might find. Will he be surprised?

Greg woke and stretched. His bed suddenly felt much better. The sun shone into the room and the bedding was so soft. He rolled on his side letting out a quiet moan and opened his eyes.  
He looked at a sleeping Mycroft Holmes. Greg stared for a few seconds and then the memories of last night crushed over him. He swallowed and carefully reached out to move his hair off his forehead. It felt very soft. He traced his finger down his temple and jaw and his thumb moved over his lips. Mycroft reacted to the touch and opened his mouth. Greg smiled. He dared and pecked a kiss on his mouth. A low grunt came from the sleeping man but he didn’t wake.  
Greg wondered where to find a bathroom. He carefully sat up to not wake Mycroft and slowly rolled out of bed. He was naked. His clothes were all over the hardwood. He grinned. He tried the door next to the bed and there it was. Greg just stared. This was fucking paradise. He grinned and closed the door behind him. He used the loo and found a still wrapped toothbrush in the little cupboard. He took it and brushed his teeth. He freshened up a bit and returned into the bedroom. Mycroft was still asleep and it said something, Greg thought. This man trusted him.  
Greg crept back into bed and thought about last night. He blushed and suddenly felt rather hot again. He would give him the best start into the day ever. Now he grinned and moved under the blanket. His hands were placed on Mycroft’s slim hips and he gently took the head of his strong, long cock into his mouth. He felt the weight and kept it right there for a bit until he started to lick and slowly suck. He reacted rather quickly and grew inside his mouth. Soon it pressed up against his palate and reached his throat. Greg moved back a bit keeping up the licking and sucking until he heard a faint groan from above. He grinned around him and hummed. The groaning became louder and his prick twitched.  
One of Greg’s hands moved over to his balls and fondled them. He knew better than to touch his behind. Mycroft Holmes doesn’t bottom, Greg was convinced. So, he licked and sucked him to complete hardness. He felt precum leak on his tongue and down his throat.  
Suddenly the blanket was thrown off and Greg looked up. Their eyes met and Greg grinned around the cock in his mouth. Mycroft rested on his elbows and raised a brow. Greg continued to suck him deep into his mouth with his cheeks all hollowed. Mycroft groaned and his head fell back. It made Greg feel bloody fantastic. He quickened his pace and his head bopped up and down until there was the warning.  
“Gregory, I …” Greg stuck his tongue into the slit and Mycroft wildly came down his throat. Greg barely managed to take it all and swallow but he somehow managed. He got up slowly and licked his lips.  
“Good morning. Myc.” He smiled up at him and Mycroft somehow returned it.  
“You didn’t have to do this.” Greg crept up to him and sat against the headrest.  
“Nonsense. I felt like it. It felt right. I would have done it last night but you shagged me into oblivion.” The comment made Mycroft grin broadly.  
“Yes, I did, didn’t I?” He sounded a bit proud of himself. They looked at each other and Greg was the first to look away.  
“I’ll better be going.” Mycroft grabbed his wrist which was just a little bit bruised.  
“Wait, Gregory. It’s Saturday morning. You are not on duty or on call today, are you?” Greg shook his head.  
“No, I am not. How … Never mind.” Mycroft didn’t let go of him but instead of grabbing his wrist he kept holding his hand.  
“I would like you to stay for breakfast if you are available?” Greg was surprised.  
“I should call Molly. She probably has killed your brother in the meantime.” But he grinned saying so.  
“I already did call her last evening. She stayed at your place.” Greg raised a brow.  
“Excuse me? You did what? She … God, never mind.” He closed his eyes rubbing over them.  
“Forgive me, I just wanted to do it right.” Mycroft just murmured his apology. Greg looked at him.  
“Did you ask after your brother? I mean he is way too tall for my sofa.” Mycroft shrugged.  
“Oh, I am convinced he occupied the bed and let poor Dr Hooper have the sofa.”  
“Or perhaps they shared the bed?” He wiggled his brows at Mycroft.  
“If my brother would have been inclined to offer this, he would have needed sleeping pills. And Dr Hooper would have suffered a stroke.” Greg outright laughed.  
“I would like to have breakfast with you.” He finally said quietly and leant back against the headrest.  
“Not in bed though.” Mycroft moved out of it and got a dressing-gown that had been placed over a chair. He slung it around his sexy frame and closed it. Greg looked rather disappointed and it made him smile.  
“Perhaps you will give me the pleasure and stay in your birthday-suit?” Greg blushed and stared at him.  
“But there are people in your house!” Mycroft shook his head.  
“They won’t be there. No one but me will see you like this.” He typed something into his mobile.  
“OK, I guess?” He felt self-conscious though. Mycroft approached him and stared him down.  
“Perhaps it might help if I just make you?” He roughly whispered making Greg swallow.  
“And then what? You’ll tie me to a chair and feed me?” Mycroft tilted his head.  
“You are giving me ideas, dear Gregory.” He palmed his face.  
“But not today.” He got him a robe and they went downstairs. Both men were hard beneath their gowns.

***

They enjoyed their breakfast. Somehow Greg ended up with cooking eggs, toasting the bread and brewing coffee while Mycroft showed him where everything was stored.  
Greg silently wondered if Mycroft would like to see him again. He didn’t want to sound too needy and didn’t ask.  
Mycroft wondered if he had been good enough so Gregory would want to see him again. But he didn’t want to beg.  
So, when they finally stood at the door and were about to part, they looked at each other.  
“I had a wonderful time, Myc. Thanks for dinner. And everything else. I mean it.” Greg smiled. Mycroft felt relieved.  
“Me, too. I mean I had a wonderful time, too.” They kept looking at each other.  
“May I call you?” Both of them asked at the same time. Greg blushed and Mycroft even cast his eyes. A huge smile showed on Greg’s face and even Mycroft’s become broader. He pulled Greg into his arms and kissed him hard.  
“Soon …” It sounded like a promise but it was so much more. Greg felt high as a kite while entering the car Mycroft had ordered. He was driven home and was a bit scared about Sherlock’s reaction. And his revenge time come. He also wondered if Dr Hooper was still there. But she had promised to look after him so she wouldn’t have run away. She might have sedated Sherlock though.  
He opened his door and called out for them.  
“Sherlock? Molly? You there?” He entered the living-room and it was empty. He paled. Where were they?  
There was no blanket on the sofa. The flat was quiet. Then he saw Molly’s bag sitting on the floor by the door. So, she must still be around. He carefully knocked on the door to his bathroom and opened it. It was empty and seemed unused so far.  
Then he dared and walked up to his bedroom. He placed his ear against the door and listened. He quietly opened the door and peaked inside. A huge grin came up and he quickly pulled his mobile out of his pocket to take a picture.  
There were Molly and Sherlock in the same bed. Somehow Sherlock had managed to half rest over poor Dr Hooper. One of his long legs was over hers and also his arm was placed over her waist. Her hands were holding on to his t-shirt. Greg took another picture and closed the door.  
He wondered what to do now. He had the day off and Molly was still here. So, he quickly donned his running gear and left the flat again. He ran for about one hour and returned to his place with coffee and food for everyone. When he opened the door, he was able to hear them.

***

After Greg had left that evening Sherlock had decided to mostly ignore Molly. What he couldn’t ignore was her making dinner. And she had brought cookies and pie. He actually liked that. He also remembered the time when she had brought such things into the morgue. He had liked that a lot, not that he had ever admitted it. So perhaps Greg was right. He should be nicer to her. She had been always very nice to him, had always helped him. Now she had even taken care of his abandoned experiments. She did all that because she was deeply in love with him. He was well aware of that fact even though he had no idea why would anyone love him. He didn't return her feelings. He never liked women. Sometimes he caught himself looking at Greg or some random people on the street but he had never approached anyone, neither at school or at university. He simply had shrugged it off.  
All these thoughts raced through his brain in mere seconds. He stood from the sofa and walked over. He cleared his throat and she quickly turned around. Obviously, she hadn’t heard him.  
“Do you need anything, Sherlock?” She looked up at him for a second and started to blush at once.  
“Dr Hooper, Molly, I am sorry for what I said before. I am grateful that you are here and brought pie and cookies. I look forward to eat them and your dinner.” Helplessly he pointed at the things she had started to cook. A look of surprise came up on her face but she straightened her tiny body and smiled.  
“That’s really nice of you to say, Sherlock. Thank you.” Now Sherlock didn’t know what else to say and just stood there.  
“Perhaps you could give me a hand here?” He was sure he could do that and just did what being told. It worked rather well and soon they sat on the sofa and had dinner. Sherlock had built another make-shift table from books and other stuff so they could put their things on top of it.  
“It’s a shame, isn’t it?” Molly asked after dinner looking around the room. Sherlock looked at her.  
“What is?” Talking to her was better than not talking at all. He would get bored if he was just sitting around so he tried to follow her words and react properly to them. He had learnt to give her answers that made her continuing so he hadn’t a lot to do.  
“Just look, Sherlock! She took almost everything. That wasn’t very nice, was it?” She looked at him out of big eyes.  
“Who?” Sherlock was confused. There was no one else here. Or had someone been here while he was sleeping?  
“Greg’s wife! They are getting a divorce and she moved out days ago. And she took everything. Just look!” She sounded really angry and he decided to give a proper answer so he looked around. Only now it occurred to him that the flat was really rather not furnished. He thought he also remembered Greg telling him something but he couldn't be sure. He had been in a bad state back then.  
“I believe I can’t even remember her from before. I only remember she didn’t like me. But who does anyway?” Then he shrugged and ate another cookie as dessert. Molly looked at him and wanted to tell him that she liked him but she didn’t.  
“I wonder if we could do something for him. I mean he is such a kind man. He always is there for you and me, is taking care and letting you stay with him, even in this situation.” Sherlock agreed.  
“But what can I do?” He gave it some thoughts while munching on the cookie.  
“Oh! Perhaps we could wash the soiled bedding? I got sick all over it. And my brother.” He snickered. Molly raised a brow.  
“Yes, that’s actually a good idea. Do you know where his laundry-bag is?” He looked at her.  
“Bathroom, he put it there because the bedroom was getting smelly.” She wrinkled her small nose.  
“Let’s then. Come on and help me.” She stood and looked at him. Sherlock suppressed the noise he actually wanted to make but stood and obediently followed her. He had actually hoped she would take care of that. By herself.  
The longer they worked together the better he felt. He was sort of surprised which was rare. So, at first, they washed and then they even cleaned the place. She had him write a shopping-list. And when they were done, he really was exhausted and tired. He sat on the sofa holding a mug with tea she had made for him. And he yawned.  
“I am sorry, Molly. I think I will go to bed now.” She smiled at him.  
“That’s fine, you helped a lot. I will be right here if you need me.” Normally that would have made him reply in a very nasty way but now he just stood and smiled.  
“Thank you, Molly.” The door closed and she fell on the sofa closing her eyes. Her guts were into knots and she was so horribly in love with this insane man, it was hard to bear. And he didn’t return her feelings at all. She sighed and got the sofa ready. Then she quickly used the bathroom and took her book to read for a while.  
She must have fallen asleep because when she woke it was all dark outside. She listened into the flat and wondered what had woken her up. And then she heard it. It was Sherlock who let out a fierce scream. She quickly got up and ran over into the bedroom. She ripped open the door and looked at him.  
He had pushed off the blanket and was sweaty all over. His head moved quickly over the pillow. His fingers were into fists and he murmured things she couldn’t understand. He was having an awful nightmare.  
Greg had told her about what happened to Sherlock. She was very careful when she approached him.  
“Sherlock? Wake up!” She tried it with words only at first and looked at him. It didn’t change anything at all. She worried her lips and moved closer. She tried to touch him, stroked over his arm but he just screamed again. She was afraid he could hit her and thought again.  
Finally, she just got on the bed but didn’t touch him. He calmed down a bit. Only then she spoke again.  
“You are having a nightmare but you are not alone. Nothing will happen to you because I am here right now. Come down, Sherlock. Rest now and go back to sleep.” He breathed rather shakily but came down after some minutes. It took him about ten minutes until he slept peacefully by her side.  
Molly decided to stay.

***

Sherlock realised he was having a nightmare but he wasn’t able to wake up. He sensed another person close by and somehow it soothed him. He went back to sleep.  
The next morning, he slowly woke and opened his tired eyes. He was on his side and now looked at the sleeping form of Dr Molly Hooper. She was fisting into his t-shirt and he was half over her. Embarrassingly he also had morning-wood. He furiously blushed and prayed to whatever entity being responsible for this kind of thing that she wouldn’t wake.  
Lucky him she didn’t wake and he carefully disentangled their bodies and got up. He urgently needed the loo. He hurried into the bathroom and hardly made it. He brushed his teeth and washed up a bit. Then he was able to hear Greg move through the flat and decided to see what he had been up to.  
When Greg was grinning very, very smugly he knew he had seen him in bed with Molly. He opened his mouth and closed it again. Instead he went for a safe opening.  
“Good morning, Greg. How was your dinner?” He tried to look rather innocent but when Greg blushed, he knew everything. His eyes roamed over him and he saw the slightly bruised wrists.  
“Dinner was splendid, Sherlock. Did you eat something? Are you OK?” He looked worried now.  
“We made dinner and I also ate the pie and cookies. And we washed the dirty bedding and the other things from the hamper. We also cleaned up a bit. I have been very busy.” He sounded almost proud.  
“Thanks, mate! That’s unexpected but nice. I brought breakfast.” He pointed to the make-shift table from last night.  
“Molly is still asleep. We shouldn’t wake her.” Sherlock quietly said.  
“No, we shouldn’t, should we? She is probably very exhausted from last night activities.” Greg grinned.  
“I don’t know to which activities you are referring but we didn’t share the same like you did with my brother.” He sternly looked at Greg who didn’t answer.  
“I believe she came into the bedroom when I was having a nightmare. I probably screamed. I know I had one but I couldn’t wake. She must have stayed. I don’t know what to do about it.” Sherlock was clueless.  
“You don’t need to do anything. It’s all fine. Except that I took a picture.” Sherlock raised a brow.  
“Show me!” He demanded and Sherlock reached out his hand. Greg placed his mobile on his palm and they both looked at it. Sherlock smiled and gave it back. Greg had half expected him to delete it right away.  
“It’s rather cute, isn’t it?” Greg asked. Sherlock snorted.  
“I’d go to the extent of nice but no more.” He sounded serious and Greg just handed over a coffee.  
“Just teasing, Sherlock …” They looked at each other and Sherlock sipped his coffee.  
“Coming back to your dinner date. Did you enjoy yourself?” He looked all innocent again while asking. Greg cleared his throat and sat down.  
“I actually did, you know? We had dinner. We had drinks. We talked. And …” He worried his lips not being sure what to tell Sherlock. He was his younger brother.  
Sherlock looked at him and tilted his head. He gave him about a minute to continue but Greg couldn’t.  
“Greg, please, he is my brother. I know exactly what my brother does in bed.” Greg looked shocked.  
“Why? Do you talk about it?” Greg wanted to know. Sherlock snorted.  
“No. But I installed cameras in his room when I was younger. I wanted to know everything.”  
“When you were younger?” Greg asked and Sherlock grinned.  
“Well, technically I am always younger.”  
“Sherlock, please? I am serious here.” Greg begged.  
“No, I haven’t watched lately. I have been too busy getting drugged. Still I do know some stuff.”  
“What do you know?” Greg asked.  
“I know he must like you because he invited you into his home and not into the club. I am sure he topped. I am sure he used toys. How am I doing so far?” Greg had blushed.  
“You are perfect, as usual. He did the most alien things to me but I loved it. I passed out on him. He shagged me into oblivion.” He blushed a deeper shade of red. Sherlock smiled.  
“Are you happy?” He asked quietly and it made Greg look up. He considered the question.  
“Yes. Yes, I am happy.” He nodded with his answer.  
“Then please tell him that because I am also sure that he wonders about it, wonders if he had done it right.”  
“Oh, I see. I will. I promise. I want to see him again.”  
“I suppose you don’t only want to see him, am I right?” Sherlock smirked.  
“Of course, you are.”


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft and Greg are having a good time. But there are doubts, mostly on Mycroft's side. Will they make it?

Greg had the next day off, too, and wondered if he should call him. Sherlock was sleeping through the day due to his exhausting time with Molly. But he was feeling better and better.  
On Monday he finally went back to work and left Sherlock alone for the first time after he brought him home. He was rather sure he wouldn’t do anything stupid.  
In the afternoon he decided to give Mycroft a call or at least a text. If he was like his brother, he would never be the first to call and Greg would end up alone after all. He sighed and took his mobile. For a minute he stared at the display and finally started to text.

_“I enjoyed our dinner and everything else you did, too. I would like to experience more. You were great.”  
GL_

He pressed send and exhaled. Then he waited. The reply came rather quick.

_“I wondered. Wednesday after work? I will give you something to experience. You were beautiful.”  
MH_

Greg smiled. He had known. Mycroft felt self-conscious. This man, the so called ice-man, it was hard to believe. Greg felt a certain warmth creep through his body.

_“I knew you did. Should I take a day off on Thursday? I can’t wait. Beautiful? You make me feel like a Princess.”  
GL_

He pressed send again and answered several mails in the meantime. He also drank some coffee.

_“Good idea, Princess. You will be surprised. How flexible are you?”  
MH_

Greg blushed and hoped no one would come in now.

_“Flexible?”  
GL_

He didn’t find more words.

_“So?”  
MH_

Greg grinned.

_“It should please you, my leash.”  
GL_

_“I do love your choice of words, my dear Gregory.”  
MH_

Greg looked smug now.

_“I know you don’t all the time. Myc.”  
GL_

The next text came faster.

_“Perhaps I should add a proper scolding to my list of things I want to do to you? Just imagine your pert behind all red and hot afterwards?  
MH_

Greg’s face and neck were very, very hot and probably very, very red, too. But the feeling in his guts was a good one. He looked to the door and carefully adjusted his pants. He felt young again.

_“Can’t wait!”  
GL_

Greg needed to go then because he was called to another homicide. Already in the car he filled out the form for his day off. He handed it over to his sergeant Sally Donovan who raised a brow.  
“Another day off so soon?” She asked.  
“Well, I have tons of over-hours and the day is much needed. You will do fine without me.” He shrugged.  
“I am glad, you know? You seem to be happy.” Greg smiled.  
“Yes, I am. I am happy. Damn my wife but I am happy. It was for the best.” She looked at him.  
“What about the freak? He still with you?” She asked.  
“Please don’t call him that, Sally. He is a human being like us.” She snorted.  
“Really?” He raised a brow.  
“Please.” She sighed and nodded.  
“OK, I am sorry. So, Sherlock Holmes, is he still living with you?” Greg nodded.  
“Yes, he is. And he is much better by now.” Sally worried her lips.  
“What is it you want to ask but can’t?” Greg asked and their eyes met.  
“Well, I was wondering if he was the reason you are happy?” She stared at the street in front of her now.  
“What?” Greg stared at her. She didn’t answer.  
“Oh! No! No, he isn’t. I am just taking care of him. He and I are not in any way, you know?” Should he tell her about his brother? He decided against.  
“OK, OK, boss. Just asking. I mean, no matter how freaky he is, he also is very attractive.”  
“You really think so?” Greg was surprised.  
“Yes, since I have a pair of eyes, I do.” Greg grinned and she did, too. They reached the crime-scene and became pros again.

***

Mycroft Holmes eagerly waited for Wednesday to arrive. He pushed loads of files over to Anthea who just took everything because she was glad that Mycroft was finally a happy man. She even sent him home on time to prepare whatever he needed to prepare.  
Back home it was only early afternoon and he sent his staff away. He rubbed his hands and called a special delivery shop for food and things. He placed the order for dinner which he wanted to cook himself. He knew Greg would appreciate that.  
After everything had been delivered and stored away, he took a bath and washed very thorough. All naked he stood in front of his walk-in-wardrobe and glanced at his suits and things. But then he decided against and chose a soft pair of jeans and a long-sleeved tee. He stayed barefoot because the floor heating was on. He hopped downstairs and poured a bottle of wine into the decanter. He lit a fire and rubbed his hands. Finally, he poured a drink and looked out of the window.  
He had tried to not plan this day and night through. He wanted to be surprised how everything would turn out with Gregory. He had enjoyed their exchange of texts the day before. It had felt almost childish but he didn’t mind at all. No one knew anyway. Well, except for Anthea who regularly scanned his mobile.  
He wanted to cook with him to see how they would work together. He wanted this to be more. He didn’t want a fuck-toy. He could have that any time he wanted since he was a member of several clubs in London. Of course, he also frequented the Diogenes Club where he had both an office and a room. Well, what you call room.  
But Gregory could be so much more. And he wanted him to be more. He only needed to find out what Gregory wanted.  
The doorbell rang and he needed a second to remember that he had sent the butler away. He hurried to the door and buzzed Gregory in. He opened the door and waited for him. He heard him walk up the stairs. Mycroft straightened up and a smile appeared on his lips which he wasn’t aware of.  
Greg started to walk faster the moment he saw Mycroft. He was carrying a bag from a fancy wine-store. He reached Mycroft and stopped right in front of him. They started to smile at each other.  
“Gregory, welcome. Come on in, please.” Mycroft stepped to the side and used the opportunity to place his hand on Greg’s lower back to gently push him forward. He felt his muscles twitch when he touched him and his pupils dilated at once.  
“Thank you, Myc. I brought a wine. I hope it is fine. I trusted the person in the shop. Sherlock said to buy there.” Greg felt Mycroft’s hand burn through his jacket.  
“It will be perfect. Hand me the bag and hang up your jacket.” Greg did just that and followed him into the living-room. At once he was handed a drink and he relaxed a bit. He wondered what was coming up and somehow expectantly looked up.  
“I planned a cooking-event.” Mycroft suddenly said and Greg looked surprised.  
“What?” He asked and Mycroft smiled a bit shy.  
“No, I meant I had everything delivered and would like us to cook together if you don’t mind? If the idea was stupid, I apologise. I …” Greg kept looking at him and smiled.  
“No, this is such a nice idea. I like that! I haven’t cooked with or even for someone for ages. What did you buy? Where is everything?” Mycroft liked the excited look he had.  
“It’s all in the kitchen. Let’s have a look, shall we?” Mycroft once more cupped up their drinks and they went into the kitchen where Mycroft presented his shopping. He placed everything on the huge counter and Greg eyed it.  
“Oh, this is going to be delicious …” He rubbed his hands and looked at Mycroft.  
“May I?” Mycroft made an inviting gesture and stepped aside. Greg moved forward and just took over. He ordered Mycroft around without noticing and Mycroft let him. This felt good. This was different. He liked it a lot.  
They ended at the table in the kitchen and Mycroft adoringly looked at him.  
“You act like a pro in the kitchen, Gregory. What have you done before you joined the Yard?” He asked.  
“My uncle was a cook. He lived in France and sometimes during the holidays I went over to see him. He taught me how to cook properly, find all the ingredients and stuff. Everything I know is because of him.” He shrugged.  
“He did well then.” Mycroft had loved the dinner. He openly smiled at Greg who returned it.  
“I am glad you liked it.” They looked at each other and Mycroft stood holding out his hand. Greg stood, too, and took it. Again, sparkles flew and both men laughed.  
“Let’s finish our wine in front of the fire-place.” Mycroft pulled Greg along and they sat in front of the fire sipping their wine. Mycroft moved closer and closer time come and Greg smiled.  
“You may touch me if you like; you may even hold me and do as you please.” Greg offered. Mycroft’s expression changed to smug and very quickly he had pulled Greg close and against him. He held his body to his own and kissed his neck. His fingers played in the short hair of his neck. Greg hummed his approval and enjoyed it.  
Only when both men had finished their wine Mycroft became serious. He changed to fierce kissing and hair-pulling and Greg groaned holding on to the ride.  
“You said last time you wanted to experience. Do you still want to experience?” He whispered into Greg’s ear and bit into his earlobe. Greg leant into him and sighed.  
“Yes, I want to experience. I will take everything you dish up. I trust you to stop when I am asking you to. I trust you.” His voice was rough already.  
“Do you have any idea what our exchange of texts did to me, Gregory?” Mycroft suddenly asked still holding him close.  
“If it did the same to me it was nice.” Greg grinned against his chest and Mycroft pinched some skin. Greg twitched but laughed.  
“It sure did.” Mycroft answered laughing, too.  
“You know, at first I thought you’d find it childish and wouldn’t react to it at all.” Mycroft kept touching him.  
“It was childish for sure but it was also new. It showed your affection. I enjoyed it.” His voice was rough now, too.  
“So, did you plan an actual scolding?” Greg asked making Mycroft laugh out loud.  
“You just can’t wait, can you?” They locked eyes and Greg blushed.  
“I looked forward to tonight all the time since I left …” He just admitted it. Even if it sounded greedy, he didn’t mind.  
“Then I won’t be disappointing. Get up, Gregory.” Greg jumped to his legs at once. Lucky him; his glass already was empty. Mycroft stood, too.  
“Turn around.” Greg did as being told and was breathing open-mouthed already. He felt Mycroft move behind him and then he took his wrists and tied him up by a rope he must have hidden somewhere close by. This felt very different from last time when he had been tied by handcuffs. This felt much better.  
Mycroft turned him around again and opened his trousers. He pulled both his trousers and his pants down over his thighs. Then he grabbed him by the waist and fell back with Greg over his thighs. They landed on the sofa and Greg felt disoriented.  
In a second Mycroft’s palm came down on his left cheek. Then he adjusted his body so his cock hung between his legs and got no friction at all. He hooked one leg around Greg’s to prevent him from kicking. Greg’s head hung low.  
“After I will have established rules for our games, I will make you count the strikes, beg for more and thank me afterwards.” Greg groaned and closed his eyes. His spine was tingling badly.  
“But for now, I will only hit you until your arse is dark red and hot. Do you consent?” He asked.  
“Yes, I do.” One hand was placed on his lower back and the other started to hit him with a lot of force behind it. The more he got hit the more it hurt. Between the blows Mycroft rubbed and massaged his cheeks and also bit into them and sucked marks into his flesh.  
Greg was groaning and soon shouting out from the pain it caused. But there was also pleasure. The balance was just perfect and Greg was hard and leaking. But when Mycroft started to rim him, he tensed. He hadn’t been touched like this for a very long time and he wasn’t ready for it yet.  
“No, please don’t. Not yet. Please stop …” His voice was rather quiet by now and Mycroft just kissed his cheeks and let go. Greg’s whole body relaxed and he hung over his legs.  
“It’s OK. Don’t worry.” Mycroft soothed him at once and Greg just sighed and gave in again. Mycroft kept touching him for a while until he nudged him with his knee.  
“Get up and let’s get comfy upstairs.” Greg hummed and got back on his legs with his help. He made him push off both his pants and denims and then took his arm. They walked upstairs into the bedroom. Mycroft took the rope away and undressed him completely.  
“Get on the bed on your back, Gregory.” Mycroft tied his arms and legs to the posts so he was spread out. The sheets teased his sore behind. He watched Mycroft holding up a blindfold, this time it was a leather one. Greg swallowed. He felt so hot. He nodded and it soon covered his eyes. He smelled the leather and it was arousing.  
Mycroft’s finger moved over his lips and he opened his mouth. The finger pushed inside and Greg knew what he wanted. He licked it and sucked it, too. When it was wet enough it was circled around his nipple. Afterwards Mycroft blew over them and Greg moaned and arched up. Nowadays his nipples seemed to be wired directly to his cock.  
When Greg felt the cold metal around it and the clamp got screwed tight, he openly groaned. He might enjoy this a bit too much.  
Everything got repeated with another finger and his second nipple. Greg was sweating by now.  
“I won’t put a cock-ring on you today. I want you to hold back without any help. I am going to tell you when it is time for you to come.” Mycroft pulled at one clamp and Greg shouted out while his prick twitched. He heard him laugh.  
The next thing Greg heard was Mycroft moving about and climbing back on the bed by his side. He sucked another mark into his skin, this time right on his chest. Teeth grazed over his skin and there was some pain. There was also pleasure again. And then there was ice. Freaking ice on his hot skin. Greg yelled out his feelings.  
Mycroft repeated this action on several parts of his body until Greg was shaking all over. Mycroft straddled him and sat on his thighs. He slicked up their cocks and pressed them together. Greg screamed and bucked up but Mycroft didn’t stop teasing him. Greg wished he could see him. Them.  
Right then the blindfold came off as if Mycroft had read him, had read his mind. Again. Greg blinked and looked at him. Mycroft was naked and kept holding their dicks together. Right now, his moves slowed down because he looked at Greg. They locked eyes for seconds and he let go. Instead he moved his body so he could rest on top of Greg's body. He moved his palms over him and also kissed him. He closed his teeth over the clamps and pulled making Greg arch up.  
Somehow, he ended up with his cheek on Greg's sternum. Mycroft's eyes were closed and he just breathed holding on to Greg.  
And Greg waited for him to do something. Only he didn't. He lifted his head but could only see his ginger hair. He gave him a few more minutes but nothing happened. Greg was a bit scared now.  
“Myc? What's wrong?” He was given no answer; only the grip on his body tightened for a second. And after another minute he untied him completely, got off the bed, grabbed his dressing-gown and took off. Greg was able to hear him running down the stairs and then a door was forcefully closed.  
Greg was shocked into stillness. What had happened here? What had he done? He hadn't even said anything. They needed to talk. So, Greg got out of bed, took the dressing-gown he had used last time, and dashed downstairs, too. Standing in the living-room he listened into the house. He heard some typing noise  
“He is hiding inside his damn office. I can't believe it.” He followed that noise and finally ended up standing in front of the wooden door. He heard nothing else but the typing. It was fast and furious. He knocked and then wanted to open the door but it was locked. He bit his lip.  
“Myc? You are scaring me. What did I do to make you run away and hide from me inside your own place?" There was no answer.  
“Open the fucking door!” Greg kicked against it but only hurt his naked foot.  
“Fuck ...” He swore and limped into the kitchen to put some ice on it. Then he poured a drink. What was he supposed to do now? How could he lure him outside again? Or perhaps he should just wait him out?  
Finally, he decided to wait him out. He sat on the sofa and had a few drinks. Perhaps he had one drink too much because he fell asleep. He was chest down on the sofa facing the door to his office. And he didn't even feel the pain when he rested right on the nipple-clamps which were still on. He was too far gone.

***

Mycroft took off the blindfold and he looked at Gregory. And Gregory looked back. They kept looking at each other and suddenly Mycroft felt the pang in his chest and it rolled right through. It felt like his intestines knotted. This was different. He had never felt like this. He didn't want to play anymore, he just wanted to feel this man. And after he was done feeling he rested on his body for minutes.  
Greg demanded to know what was wrong, what was happening. What was he supposed to answer? He didn't know and that scared him to death. Right after that special thought ended, he reached for the ropes and undid them. And then he took off. He didn't want to call it running away, he just didn't. Mycroft Holmes doesn't do running away.  
He hid inside his office. He even had turned the key. He sat down behind his desk and opened his laptop. But he wasn't able to switch his thoughts off. His thoughts about Gregory. He furiously typed but had to delete everything again because it was utter rubbish.  
His head shot up when Gregory knocked and then kicked against his door. He worried his bottom lip but didn't open the door. He didn't know what was happening to him. And that scared the fuck out of him.  
He hid in his office for hours and waited for Greg to leave. Only he didn't. Mycroft didn't hear a single noise coming from his place. What was Gregory doing?  
Mycroft knew he had to come out some time soon. So, he straightened up and sneaked out. He slowly disappeared upstairs and into the bathroom to use the loo and brush his teeth. He dressed into the pair of soft denims and long-sleeved tee from before. He deeply breathed and on the final exhale he walked downstairs again.  
He approached Gregory who was fast asleep on the sofa. He was frowning even while still being asleep. He even made small noises and his fingers twitched.  
Mycroft still was very much afraid but he got on his knees in front of Gregory. He slowly reached out for him and placed his palm on his forehead.  
“Gregory?” He spoke very quietly and his thumb moved over his skin. But he didn't wake up.  
“Greg, please. Wake up. I need … I am ...” Then he shook his head and lowered his gaze. He closed his eyes and swallowed. And then there were his fingers around his wrist. His eyes shot open.  
“Explain yourself because I really want to know why you scared the fuck out of me.” Greg roughly whispered while he got up and into a sitting position on the sofa. He didn't let go of Mycroft's wrist and just pulled him closer.  
“Honestly I don't know. I have no idea what happened up there.” He sounded rough.  
“What did you feel up there?” Greg asked calmly.  
“It was strange. I never experienced something like that before. It felt like my body was fighting against my brain. It was like a lightning bolt telling me to simply stop what I was doing and just to be close to you. That's what I did.”  
“And you couldn't cope.” Slowly Mycroft shook his head.  
“No, I couldn't. I wasn't able to analyse what had happened. I only knew that it was new and wonderful, bright and good.” Now he even blushed.  
Greg just looked at him and let go of his wrist. Instead he pulled him against his body and held him tight.  
“I might be able to help out with that, you know?” Greg whispered against his head.  
“How would you know what's inside my head?” Mycroft asked sounding a lot like Sherlock. He was annoyed now because he wasn't able to manage the situation. Greg grinned.  
“Oh dear, I have absolutely no idea what's inside your head. But I know what's inside your heart. Because it's the same that's inside mine.” Now Greg placed his palm on his chest. Mycroft looked at him, clearly not understanding a thing.  
“And what's that?” He asked wondrously. Greg smiled.  
“Love.”


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg and Mycroft are planning Sherlock's future. They are looking for a flat for him. Mycroft knows a certain someone who happens to own a building in 221 Baker Street.

Mycroft and Greg stared at each other. Suddenly the knot in Mycroft's stomach uncurled and a smile came up which turned into a broad and open smile.  
“This is unexpected ...” He quietly said still looking at Greg.  
“But it's not horrible?” Greg asked with a smile on his face. Mycroft's eyes widened in shock.  
“No, no, please don't think that. If that, I mean, I have … I just want you. I want you with me, I want you close.”  
“Sounds good. Promise me something?” Greg said.  
“Anything.” Mycroft answered.  
“Never run away again. It's a very Sherlockian thing and I don't like it. Just talk to me, Myc.” Greg said.  
“It's not easy for me to talk about this ...” Mycroft said after a while.  
“I sort of understand because I happen to know your brother. But please, this is us.” Greg looked at him.  
“There is an us?” Mycroft asked and sounded almost hopeful. Greg was strongly reminded of Sherlock again.  
“If you want it to be? Absolutely. Yes. There is an us.” Greg answered holding his hands by now.  
“Why do you want it? I mean why do you ...” Mycroft helplessly shrugged and Greg broadly smiled.  
“The great Mycroft Holmes at a loss of words. I can't believe it. And the answer is that I have no idea. I just feel it. I feel so alive when being with you.” He shrugged.  
“You may be proud of your achievement. Not many humans were able to do so.” Now he sounded a bit stroppy.  
“You know, Myc, I am getting an idea where Sherlock got it from.” Mycroft raised a brow.  
“I am not honouring this with an answer, Gregory.” He raised a brow.  
“You just did, Myc.” Greg smirked and pulled him close for a kiss.  
Mycroft got lost in the sensation and he never got up from his kneeling position.  
When they parted again Mycroft slowly straightened his body.  
“Would you like to have breakfast?” He asked almost shy.  
“God, yes!” Greg yawned and then rubbed over his chest all thoughtless. Then he yelped. He still wore the clamps. He had completely forgotten about them. His fingers came up to take them off but Mycroft stopped him.  
“No, let me. God, you wore them for all these hours. You must be so sore.” For a moment Mycroft just stared but then looked up at him again.  
“Listen, try to relax because taking them off will hurt like fuck. The blood will come rushing back in and it will feel like they are going to fall off.” Greg swallowed.  
“But they won't fall off, right?” Gingerly he touched the metal.  
“Of course, they aren't falling off, Gregory. Don't be childish.” Greg stuck out his tongue and it made Mycroft smile.  
“Go on then. I like you giving me pain.” Greg leant back into the sofa and tried to relax. But his eyes followed Mycroft's fingers.  
And Mycroft really was so very careful. But still it really hurt like fuck. He had been right, Greg thought. The first one came off and the blood returned. Greg loudly groaned.  
“Fuck!” He yelled when Mycroft took care of the second clamp. There were tears in his eyes now and Mycroft kissed the tears off his face.  
“I am sorry. This is my fault ...” Greg shook his head.  
“No, it's not. I could have taken them off while being upstairs. Only I forgot.” He shrugged.  
“I will make it better; I promise.” Mycroft pulled him up.  
“I know. Are you making me breakfast now?” Greg made puppy eyes and Mycroft became hard.

***

While having breakfast Greg showed Mycroft the picture he had taken of Sherlock and Molly in bed. Mycroft just glanced at it and then looked up.  
“I never would have thought ...” He then said and bit into a slice of buttered toast. Greg's eyes widened.  
“What? You can't honestly believe ...” Greg shook his head.  
“But why not? Dr Hooper is deeply in love with my brother. She would do anything for him. Perhaps he felt lonely?”  
“Perhaps he does, yes. But he isn't in love with her.” Mycroft shrugged.  
“Perhaps we should find him a flat-mate?” That made Greg look up.  
“Myc, he doesn't even have a flat.” Mycroft kept shrugging.  
“That's the smallest problem we are facing.” Greg peeled an orange.  
“Are you telling me you want to give Sherlock a flat so he can live on his own? Jesus, fuck, are you mad?”  
“You are swearing a lot, Gregory. I might need to put some soap into your mouth later.” Greg smirked.  
“You may try. We are talking family here. It isn't funny!” Greg was serious. Inside Mycroft's head the word “family” was bouncing back from his skull.  
“You consider my brother family?” He finally asked. Now Greg shrugged.  
“He is one of my closest friends. It sure does feel like it, yes. Why?” Now Mycroft smirked.  
“This would make our relationship really incestuous.” He quietly laughed.  
“Oh, you utter maniac ...” Greg leant over the table and kissed him laughing, too.  
They finished breakfast and Mycroft pulled Greg into his office. He placed him on a chair behind the desk by his side and powered up his computer. Greg wondered what he was up to.  
“We are looking for a flat for Sherlock now. You know him very well and shall be a great help.” Mycroft pulled up a site for flats in central London and it made Greg swallow.  
“So, what do you think? How many rooms? Modern or not?” Mycroft muttered and kept typing until several windows were open. Greg just looked and tried to black out the price-tags.  
“Gregory, you are not talking to me. Is something still wrong? Do you hurt? Do you need anything?” They looked at each other.  
“No, I am fine. Just sore at the right places. It's only this. I mean will he even move in there?” Greg pointed at the screen where a nice place in Baker Street was shown.  
“Of course, he will. You will talk to him and convince him. You can do it. I will provide everything needed and he will never know.” Greg was absolutely clueless.  
“He will never know what? Myc, please talk to me!” Mycroft looked rather smug.  
“This flat belongs to a Mrs Hudson. Sherlock once helped her getting rid of her husband.” Greg paled a bit.  
“You know I am a DI with Scotland Yard, don't you?” Mycroft quietly laughed.  
“The late Mr Hudson was leading a drug cartel. He was sentenced to death in Florida. Sherlock made it happen and brought her home. He also made sure that Mrs Hudson got her dead husband's money. She adores him.”  
“So, you will have her spy on him.” Greg quietly said and Mycroft chuckled.  
“No, she wouldn't ever spy on him for me. Never. She would pour a bucket with ice-water from the roof over my head, yes, but she would never betray my brother.”  
“She must be a hell of a lady!” Greg laughed.  
“She is, she really is.” Mycroft fondly smiled.  
“Are there more pictures of her flat she wants to let out?” Greg asked and leaned forward. Mycroft just nodded and moved his finger over the touchpad. Greg liked the place. It somehow suited Sherlock.  
Mycroft called Mrs Hudson and convinced her to meet with Greg and him to talk about it. She needed to know about what happened to Sherlock. He wouldn't lie to her because he liked her. She deserved the truth.  
Later that day they sat on the sofa again and sipped some wine. Greg looked at him from the opposite side of the sofa. Their legs rested over the others and Greg felt Mycroft's cold feet.  
“I think it would be best if Sherlock just stayed with me until the flat is ready.” Greg suggested.  
“That's a good idea. He can stay in your flat and you can stay here.” Greg looked at him.  
“That's not what I meant and you know it.”  
“Sherlock will manage. I will let him know that there will be rewards if he makes it, stays sober.”  
“Rewards like what?” Greg asked.  
“Rewards like the flat, lab equipment, money, access to your cold cases, such things.”  
“Access to my cold cases? I can't just give him my cold cases, Myc!” Greg was upset.  
“Of course, you can because I will arrange it. You don't have to worry.” Greg's eyes darkened and he crossed his arms over his chest.  
“I am not ending up as your protégé. Stop messing with my work, Myc.” Greg was dead serious and the tone of his voice made Mycroft look up and into his eyes.  
“Why are you so upset about it? I just smooth it out for both you and Sherlock. I don't want you to have problems.”  
“If you don't want me to have problems, you just don't mess with my work, Mycroft Holmes. It's my decision what I give Sherlock to work on. Hell, I wish I could take him back on crime scenes again. He is brilliant. But it will be my responsibility. Do you understand?”  
“No, I don't. But I can sense you are uneasy and I don't want that.” Greg sighed and breathed deeply. He was able to deal with Sherlock. He could deal with Mycroft, too.  
“OK, I will also talk to Dr Hooper if she lets him back into the morgue at Bart’s. I bet she will.” Greg mused.  
“And if not, you could blackmail her with the picture on your mobile.” Mycroft grinned.  
“Oh, you ghastly beast!” Greg said fondly.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock wants to know what happened between Greg and his brother. He sees a lot but wants Greg to tell him. He is concerned for Greg's well-being.

After Molly had come out of the bathroom no one referred to the events from last night. Greg made her some breakfast, too, while Sherlock used the bathroom for quite some time.  
She really was very quiet while eating and sipping her coffee. It took her two mugs until she looked at Greg.  
“Is he better?” She asked. Greg looked at her.  
“What you did helped a lot. He slept. He was well aware of your presence, he told me. I also could see it.”  
“See it?” She almost shrieked.  
“What did you see? There was nothing to see!” She looked scared to death and Greg almost had to grin. Instead he showed her the picture he had taken. She stared at it for long seconds until she smiled.  
“Please send it to my account, Greg.” She gave it back and her hand was shaking.  
“That's what Sherlock said, as well.” Greg told her and she blushed. Then she stood.  
“I should leave. I have to get ready for my late shift.” She collected all her stuff and stood by the door.  
“Do you really want to leave and don't tell him good-bye?” Greg asked.  
“No, I guess not.” She sighed and stayed. But she didn't sit down again. They waited for Sherlock while listening to him rummaging in the bedroom. He came out dressed in a pair of denims and a tee. He only wore socks and his hair was still damp. Molly blushed again and looked on her feet.  
“Are you about to leave?” He asked moving over. She nodded.  
“Yes, I have to. Late shift, you know?” He nodded.  
“Yes, I do. I wish I could … Never mind.” He slowly shook his head. Greg looked at Molly and she shortly nodded.  
“But I would like to thank you for what you did.” Greg was surprised. Molly looked at Sherlock.  
“I didn't do anything you need to thank me for, Sherlock.” She sounded serious.  
“You came here to help. You cooked dinner and brought pie and cookies. You were nice to me even though I wasn't. You took care of me last night. You stayed and made it better. I am so very sorry that I can't give you what you deserve, Molly.” Greg was really moved and had to look away. There were tears in Molly’s eyes.  
Sherlock just stood there hugging himself. It took Molly almost a minute to react. She swallowed and cleared her throat.  
“It's all fine. Don't worry, OK? See you, Sherlock. Greg.” Then she left. Sherlock looked at Greg.  
“Have I done it wrong again? I thought it was nice to tell her. Or wasn't it?” He made a step towards Greg.  
“It was the right thing to do. I was absolutely surprised by it. You have done good, very good, Sherlock.” He slumped over to the table and sat down looking at the left-overs.  
“May I have some more, please?” Greg crossed his arms before his chest.  
“If you think saying please will make me do everything for you, you are thinking wrong. This is the last time. Next time you'll do it yourself.” He tried to look stern while Sherlock tried to look all innocent.  
“Yes, Sir.” Both men smiled and Greg left for the kitchen slowly shaking his head.  
“So how is it going with my brother? How are your nipples?” Sherlock asked and Greg spit coffee all over the counter.  
“That was disgusting, Lestrade.” Greg cleaned his face with a paper napkin. He coughed and drank some water.  
“Everything is just fine. And how, oh well, never mind.” He wiped over his eyes, too.  
“They seem to be sore. You keep touching your chest very gingerly. Tell me what happened before everything became fine again.”  
“Why do you want to know?” Greg asked.  
“Because I can pull it out of my hat when necessary. He can't treat you like that. You can't be hurt.”  
“It was a bit weird; you know?” Greg sighed and they looked at each other. Then he told him everything. Sherlock intently listened.  
“So, you are in love?” He finally asked. Greg smiled.  
“Yes, we are.” Sherlock smiled.  
“You know, I am happy for you, both of you. He deserves it, he deserves to be happy.”  
“So, do you, Sherlock.” Sherlock snorted.  
“Love isn't meant for me, Lestrade.”  
“Why not?” Greg dared asking. Sherlock never answered.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft gets Sherlock the flat and Greg helps moving, was the handy-man, decorated and painted.

Greg and Mycroft just left Baker Street. They very successfully had been talking to Mrs Hudson who was indeed a very friendly and gentle person. Greg knew it would be right for Sherlock to live here.  
They stood in front of the door and Greg eyed the café on their left.  
“Shall we?” He looked up at Mycroft who in return eyed the little business rather sceptically.  
“If we must?” He shrugged and let Greg advance. Greg sighed but very quietly. It seemed to be a nice place. And if it weren't Mrs Hudson surely would have said something. They found their place on the left behind the counter. Greg ordered for the two of them while Mycroft examined the place out of all-seeing eyes.  
Tea was brought first and Mycroft slowly added sugar as he liked. Greg added both milk and sugar and licked his lips. Then there was cake and Mycroft raised his brows almost up to his hairline.  
“Please, just for the occasion? We have found your brother a beautiful home. Now we need our strength to tell him. So just eat it.” Greg shoved the plate closer to him. He stuck the fork into his own piece of chocolate cake. For Mycroft he had ordered strawberry cheesecake.  
Instead Mycroft drank his tea and didn't touch the cake. Soon enough the waitress appeared by his side.  
“Something wrong with it, Sir?” He tensed and looked up at her. She towered above him with her arms akimbo. She could probably break him if she wanted. Greg smirked.  
“No, not at all. I only want to drink my tea first.” She nodded but kept him in her line of sight and he knew it. He simply gave up and started to eat. The piece was gone very quickly.  
“See?” Greg said smugly and Mycroft muttered something very indecent very quietly. He gingerly wiped his mouth with the provided napkin and looked at Greg.  
“You have won. Happy now?” He didn't look very amused and Greg started to doubt his action.  
“I am always happy when being with you, Myc. So please lighten up, as well?” He made it sound serious.  
“We will talk to Sherlock right now. Afterwards I will have to visit my gym. If you like you can wait at my place?” Surprised Greg looked up at him.  
“Gym? You visit a gym?” He finished his tea and so did Mycroft.  
“Yes. I have to so I can keep this.” He made a smallish gesture over his body. Greg again thought like how similar he was to Sherlock sometimes. He only wasn't as open as him.  
They left the café called Speedy's went back to Greg's to talk to Sherlock.

***

While Greg was gone Sherlock slept for a good while. When he woke Greg still wasn't back. He got presentable and looked around thinking what he could do. He knew Greg had left him some money just in case he wanted something from the shops. He found it was quiet the fair amount and that he could buy something for dinner from it. He checked their supplies and then decided on pasta.  
He slowly walked to the local Tesco and scanned the aisles. He found everything he wanted for dinner and wondered if there was enough money left to buy a decent bottle of wine. He worried his lips and calculated the goods in his basket. It should be fine.  
And so it was. He even got some coins back and looked rather proud upon carrying everything back.  
He met Greg and his brother right outside when the car pulled up Mycroft obviously had summoned to take them back from whatever thing they had been going to. Greg at once looked at him coming up close.  
“You are outside. What have you been doing? Don't tell me you went shopping?” He curiously asked.  
“I obviously was. I took the money you provided and went to Tesco. I thought I could make us dinner. Only if you like, of course?” He shifted on his feet and didn't look at them.  
“We do like so very much, Sherlock.” Mycroft stepped in. Greg in the meantime had opened his door and the brothers followed him inside.  
“God, and you have cleaned, too. Thanks, mate.” Mycroft was surprised how tidy everything was. And he knew his brother was ready for his place. It wouldn't look that tidy for a long time but it should work. He smiled at him.  
To Sherlock's utmost surprise he shed his jacket and waistcoat as well as his shoes and got comfy. So was Greg. And Sherlock started on his dinner.  
Suddenly he felt them staring at his back and he looked over his shoulder.  
“What is it?” He asked. Mycroft cleared his throat.  
“You know, this living-situation is not for eternity, little brother. That's why we found you a place.” Sherlock raised a brow.  
“You did?” Not more but it sounded very, very sceptical.  
“Yes, mate. It belongs to one Mrs Hudson. Your brother told me you know her?” Greg added and the statement made Sherlock look at them out of wide eyes.  
“Really? She will be my landlady?” He almost looked relieved. Happy.  
“Here, have a look, Sherlock.” Greg brought his laptop and showed him. He washed his hands and took it. Slowly he pulled up all the sites available and a smile was on his face. It made both Mycroft and Greg happy to watch this.  
“It looks nice.” Sherlock said. He sounded both grateful and excited.  
“You can move in whenever you want.” Greg added.  
“But I don't have anything to put in there.” Sherlock slowly said looking sad.  
“Oh, please. Talk to me.” Mycroft looked at him. The brothers locked eyes and it was good. Greg could see that.  
So, after dinner Sherlock browsed the internet for second-hand stuff until Mycroft stopped him. But until then Sherlock had already found some nice furniture much to his surprise.  
“How come you know all this?” Mycroft sat by his side and shook his head.  
“Greg showed me.” Sherlock answered and it made Mycroft tense. So, what must Greg feel when he was in his place? He swallowed looking around carefully.  
“Mycroft, brother-mine. There are two possibilities. The first is to get Greg new stuff, as well. You know he would both hate and deny it. The second is to have him move in with you. Your place is big enough and it is time anyway. So?” Sherlock now looked at his brother.  
“You think?” He simply asked and Sherlock nodded. Right then Greg came back from the bath.  
“What's up?” He asked sitting on the armrest and folding his arm around Mycroft.  
“You will be moving in with my darling brother and I will move into 221 B Baker Street!” Greg fell off the armrest.

***

Mycroft couldn't be bothered helping Sherlock but Greg did. He painted and did the hardwood. He made Sherlock do a lot of things, too, and was surprised how good he was with these things. He never knew.  
Piece by piece his furniture was delivered. Some was ready as it came upstairs and some had to be assembled. Greg did that, too, with the help of Sherlock.  
So, after a fortnight they were able to sit on a wrinkly leather-sofa and watch TV. Greg had brought fish and chips and they also had beer. Sherlock looked really happy and it showed. He had gained some weight and his pallor has improved, too.  
“You know, I talked to Molly. She will allow you back into the morgue. I arranged everything for you.” Sherlock looked up. He was very surprised.  
“Really? That's fantastic!” Sherlock broadly smiled.  
“I will also get you case-files, mate. First I will bring cold cases only.” Sherlock pouted.  
“Until you have proven you could do it. Understood?” Sherlock mock-saluted him.  
“Yes, Detective Inspector!”  
“I am very happy for you, Sherlock.” Mycroft quietly said. Sherlock focused on him.  
“Thank you, Myc. I do appreciate it. Everything.” They looked at each other and Greg was happy.  
“You haven't eaten a lot, Myc? Would you like me to order something else for you?” Greg asked.  
“It's too greasy like this. Put it on a plate for him and provide him with a fork and a knife. He will eat then.” Sherlock told Greg staring at his empty plate.  
“Oh ...” Greg said and did as told. He also put some more on Sherlock's plate. He had gotten loads of fish and chips. Mycroft started to eat at once and Greg just looked at him.  
“You could have just said so, you know?” He told him.  
“I didn't mean to annoy you.” Mycroft replied.  
“You don't by telling me how you like your food served. It's all fine.” Greg looked at him.  
“I don't know ...” Mycroft shook his head but started to eat again. Greg just smiled. So did Sherlock.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock meets John.

Sherlock stared into his microscope while Molly was away. He had timed it perfectly so he wouldn't be disturbed. But now there were voices. He listened for a second but found it was only Mike Stamford so he didn't mind at all.  
“Oh, Sherlock. I didn't know you were here. I am sorry to disturb you.” He said and Sherlock sighed.  
“Never mind, Mike.” He replied.  
“May I borrow your phone?” Sherlock asked all of a sudden.  
“Sorry, in my office.” Mike replied and Sherlock sighed again.  
“Here, take mine.” A second voice offered and Sherlock turned around. There was a second man. Small, muscular, ex-military. What was he doing here with Mike?”  
“Thank you.” Sherlock stepped up and took it texting at once. Afterwards he deduced everything about the man what there was to deduce and left the morgue offering him a flat-share. They stared at each other for several seconds but then the man agreed. John, that was his name. Dr John Watson, formerly an army Captain, medical corps. He had known that before he introduced himself but he didn't tell him.  
Sherlock liked him.

***

They ended up in 221B Baker Street and John moved in the next day. They celebrated with Indian take-away and Sherlock was beyond happy. So was John. He found his new flat-mate amazing. Beyond amazing.


End file.
